Hetalia Ficlets
by Faerie of the Moon
Summary: A collection of short-stories based on prompts originally written on my tumblr and then posted over here. Mainly FrUK, but will have some appearances by other characters periodically. Various characters have alternate names for different reasons. If you don't like these changes, that's fine. Just please show respect and don't yell at me.
1. I'm not Feeling it

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of the prompts I use.**

 **Based on a prompt by promptsforthestruggling author on tumblr**

 **post/172961599531/writing-prompt-456**

Secondary school was miserable and noisy. Arthur _despised_ it. The people were fake, obnoxious, and hateful. For as much as the school liked to brag about its "friendly and accepting environment," the students were cruel and vicious. It was for that reason alone that Arthur constantly skipped school entirely. It was a miracle that he was passing his classes. He would've been expelled if not for his childhood friend Marceau.

Marceau was the one that kept him from drowning in misery. When his parents divorced and he was left with his psychotic alcoholic father, Marceau's family offered him a place to stay. Of course, it was only once the bruises became too horrible to hide that he admitted how bad it really was.

Now, though, he had a fairly stable life outside of school. Marceau kept him from getting kicked out of school and Arthur kept Marceau from going insane from his mother. (Airhead and spaz were always the first words that came to mind for the woman.)

On that particular day, though, Arthur had even less motivation to go to school than normal. No matter how much Marceau tried to encourage him, Arthur refused to even get out of bed. Even after Marceau physically yanked him out of bed, he still barely moved.

"Christ, Arthur. Did you lapse into a coma?" Marceau huffed, glaring down at his... friend? Things had gotten confused lately, despite neither of them "confessing" anything.

"If that gets you to leave me alone, sure," was Arthur's reply.

Marceau groaned and ran a hand through his hair. It seemed like each day was a bigger pain in the ass when it came to Arthur. No matter what Marceau felt for him, he was as stubborn as a mule and impossible to deal with in this kind of mood. "What's the problem today?"

Arthur sighed and looked up at him blearily. "I'm not feeling it today."

The response was almost laughable. "You're not 'feeling it' _any_ day, cher," Marceau droned. "Now get up."

"Nope."

After glaring at him for a moment, Marceau got down on the floor with him. They sat there for a little bit in silence. Then Marceau rolled onto his stomach and started playing with Arthur's hair. There were a few other ways to motivate him...

Like kissing him briefly on his forehead and then again on his lips. It was almost instantaneous that Arthur blushed bright red and jumped up. Despite his hard shell, he was so easily flustered and jumpy in the morning. He tended to run away from affection if he hadn't had caffeine. It was funny to Marceau and easy to play around with.

 **My tumblr is faerie-of-the-moonlight if you want to follow me there or just look at the original post.**

 **~ I take oneshot requests for FrUK ~**


	2. A Torrential Downpour

**Based on a prompt by promptsforthestrugglingauthor on tumblr**

 **post/172557454041/writing-prompt-446?**

The weather was supposed to be nicer in Calais than London. That was why Arthur's family had moved there 8 years ago. It wasn't supposed to pour down rain that someone had split the clouds open with a claymore. Yet that's exactly what it was doing that spring morning.

When he was a child, Arthur hated storms. They never had any affect on him personally, but his mother had horrible anxiety and freaked out during any storm. It was miserable to grow up with and gave Arthur his own sort of anxiety.

As an adult (as adult as a barely 20-year-old could be), he actually enjoyed the chill of the rain, sounds of the thunder, and flash of lightning. It may not have been the best thing for him, but it wasn't unheard of for him to just sit outside on his porch and sit in the rain. He loved it.

His boyfriend hated it. There had been multiple times when Arthur caught a little cold or ran a fever after spending a few hours out in a storm. He couldn't bring himself to particularly mind, though. It was one of the few ways he could clear his head and get away from his rampant thoughts. It may have helped him with his writing, but it didn't help him with his everyday life at all.

Arthur carefully pulled himself off of the couch, mindful not to disturb Marceau, his boyfriend, who was still sleeping. He looked briefly out the window before turning the TV off. It didn't matter how many times they tried to have calm movie nights, they always fell asleep in the middle of the film.

After turning everything off, Arthur walked over to the window and simply watched the rain for ten minutes. Eventually, his mind started wandering and it ended up in a dark place. He had what his family called "black episodes" where his thoughts plunged into a self-deprecating and negative cycle.

Sighing quietly, he slipped a pair of shoes on and slipped outside the front door. He was sure that Marceau would berate him for it, but he needed a moment of peace and quiet from, well, himself.

Far too much time passed while he sat on his front step, uncaring about the chilling rain. It had a calming effect on him and not many things or people could do that.

He wasn't startled when the door opened behind him and simply looked over his shoulder at Marceau. His boyfriend looked tired and exasperated. "Arthur... What are you doing?"

"Don't you think it's a beautiful day out?' Arthur asked.

After staring at him blearily, Marceau sighed. "It's a torrential downpour, cher. It's the furthest thing from a 'beautiful day.' Come inside, please."

He used to try to argue and fight with Marceau on it, but that stopped working a while ago. Mainly because Marceau started dragging him inside by the back of his shirt. "Mhh... Alright, fine. Only if you make something sweet for breakfast first, though," he said with a melancholy smile.

"Any time you want. You just have to ask. You're showering and warming up while I start it," Marceau said as he guided Arthur back in and shut the door to the rain.

 **My tumblr is faerie-of-the-moonlight if you want to follow me there or just look at the original post.**

 **~ I take oneshot requests for FrUK ~**


	3. If I Weren't Handcuffed

**Based on a prompt by speech-prompts on tumblr**

 **( post/171878483009/if-i-wasnt-handcuffed-right-now-id-probably)**

When Arthur agreed to go with his cousin on a trip to France, he never imagined he would be getting arrested. It was absolutely Gilbert's fault. When things went wrong, it was generally his infuriating German cousin's doing. Unless they were both hammered. Then it was a tossup because, really, Arthur was just as much of a troublemaker.

Getting arrested was not something that happened to him, though. Not even after a bar fight. (Which were... not rare in his life). He had a horrible attitude and penchant for fighting, but it had never led to the cops fault. But, again, this was entirely on Gilbert.

Arthur had barely gotten involved when Gilbert picked a fight with some idiot who practically shoved Gilbert off the barstool. There had been no reason to. Gilbert was a grown man and could damn well handle himself. But of course neanderthals came in packs, so 1-on-1 quickly turned into a clusterfuck with collateral damage. It was likely the bartender that called the cops, but Arthur would never know for sure.

When the cops got there, most of the bar ended up being put in handcuffs and cordoned off for questioning. Evidently the police in Paris had nothing better to do than investigate the shit out of a bar fight. Was all this peacocking really necessary? The only thing missing was a damn SWAT team-or whatever the French equivalent was.

Arthur was completely on his own, sitting with his legs crossed and his arms behind his back. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but he could barely move without getting a sharp glare from the nearby officer. What a lovely way his return to Paris had gone.

Since he had rapidly gotten bored, Arthur was humming a song when he _finally_ heard the apparent detective walk over to him. "About damn time. I have better-Are you fucking kidding me?" Arthur demanded incredulously at the detective. If he thought his night couldn't get any more fucked up, he was wrong.

What were the chances that his ex from school would be the fucking detective that was possibly arresting him? It was ludicrous. The fucking bastard barely looked any different either. Older, yes, but not much else.

"That was what I was wondering when I was talking to Gilbert," Marceau chuckled. "Isn't this a nice reunion?"

"Fan-fucking-tastic, yeah. When the hell did you become a cop?" Arthur asked, finding it hard to piece together. Marceau had been constantly in some form of trouble during their school years in Paris, so he should've been one of the last people to become a detective.

"Ah, it's a long story. How is it that you come back here and immediately start causing trouble? It's our childhood all over again. Though, at least you didn't set anything on fire this time..." Well, in a literal sense. There were certainly a few fires lit by this clusterfuck.

"One time," Arthur growled. And he was 11; he never should've been told to cook. "The trip was Gilbert's idea. If I had known this would happen, I wouldn't have come."

Smirking mischievously, Marceau leaned down and tilted Arthur's chin up. "Aw, you didn't miss me, cher?" he practically _purred_.

Arthur glared, but didn't put much effort into it. "Not particularly." Though it was a lie. He had actually missed Marceau a lot after they "broke up." It was more a mutual agreement regarding the situation. There had been no chance of them keeping contact, since Arthur's family all but shoved him into a church-ran boot camp.

"I'm not sure I believe you. With your miserable attitude, you've likely been celibate for the past few years. That or you, ah-"

"Don't even go there. Why don't you fucking do your job and tell me what's going on here? Or, better yet, let me go?" Arthur huffed. He wanted to go back to hotel.

"Mhh... Sorry, I can't. You stepped right into an operation we've been working on. So I'm going to have to take you in to the station," Marceau told him with a sigh.

"What? Why? We didn't bloody do anything!" That was absurd. They were just tourists, as far as anyone was concerned.

"Appearance is what matters here. Besides, I only said _you_. Gilbert wasn't the one who punched out our suspect and fucked everything up tonight," Marceau informed him with a sickly sweet and unapologetic smile. "Besides, there's something very... special about seeing you cuffed like this. Even if you are making my life Goddamn miserable with this. Welcome back to Paris, mon amour."

Arthur growled and glared at his ex-boyfriend. "If I wasn't handcuffed right now I'd probably punch you in the face, you know." Punch him or kiss him. With two glasses of rum in his system, he wasn't sure. Either option was sounded good at that point.

 **My tumblr is faerie-of-the-moonlight if you want to follow me there or just look at the original post.**

 **~ I take oneshot requests for FrUK ~**


	4. Cookie Dough

**Based on a prompt by otpimagines1 on tumblr**

 **( post/173222013454/otp-90-person-a-is-baking-cookies-and-has-to)**

It was one of those rare days that Marceau actually got up before Arthur. It wasn't so much that Arthur was an early riser as it was that he was a light sleeper and typically woke up as Marceau was getting out of bed. Since it was Arthur's birthday, Marceau was going to take advantage of the rare occurrence.

His body was protesting at the earlier-than-normal rising, but he hadn't had the chance for prep work last night. The surprise would be worth it in the end, since Arthur insisted on no gifts, parties, or any sort of celebration. Marceau was sure that he would accept a good breakfast and some sweets, though. Especially considering the man's ridiculous sweet tooth. It was almost on par with his "occasional" absent-mindedness. Dating an author was hilarious sometimes, Marceau thought as he yawned.

By the time Arthur came down from the bedroom, Marceau had gotten cookies and macarons both in the oven. His phone had a timer set for the macarons and the oven was set for the cookies. He hadn't gotten started on breakfast yet and was still cleaning up the mess from the baking.

Scrubbing mixing bowls was actually fairly noisy with the water running, so he didn't hear Arthur approach him from behind. Mischievous moments weren't rare for Arthur, except perhaps in the groggy morning hours, but Marceau was still startled to suddenly be kissed on the side of his neck.

Arthur jumped back with a laugh as his boyfriend cursed and whirled around on him. "Good morning, love," he greeted with a lazy but trouble making smile.

At least Arthur was in a good mood. "Good morning and happy birthday to you, too, shithead," Marceau huffed. He was smiling, too, though it was more of a wry one. "Using your birthday as an excuse to terrorize me, I see."

"Mhh, no more than usual," Arthur hummed. As Marceau went back to doing the dishes, Arthur draped over his shoulder and observed the mess. "You got up this early to bake? I hope you're not developing anymore of your mother's habits," he teased while reaching towards the un-washed bowl of cookie dough.

Marceau was glancing at the timer on his phone, but still smacked Arthur's hand. "Wait until they're done. And, no, I haven't developed _any_ of my mother's habits. Thank God," he mumbled. His mother was a spaz and a piece of work, after all.

Arthur clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. "Really? I'm not a child, Marceau."

"Maybe not, but I'm making breakfast as soon as the macarons are done. You can wait to eat until then," Marceau told him.

"Oh, _please._ A little snack, if you can call it that, isn't going to hurt me," he snorted. No one could say Arthur didn't know how to get what he wanted. Seeing as how Marceau was watching him (and the timer) like a hawk, he distracted his boyfriend with another kiss behind the ear so that he could get just a bit of cookie dough.

The kiss was a damn good distraction, but Marceau still caught Arthur after-the-fact and sighed at him. "Can you not simply wait, cher? For not being a child, you certainly act like one."

"It's my birthday. If you're going to do something for me, I might as well take act however I please," Arthur remarked with a smile as he wiped cookie dough on Marceau's face. The amused smirk he got was barely warning enough before he got a face full of soapy water.

Somewhere between 10 and 20 minutes later, they were covered in water, soap suds, and cookie dough while Marceau cursed at thoroughly burnt macarons. The cookies had come out perfectly fine, but the macarons had been an unfortunate casualty of their impromptu and exceedingly childish fight. Even though he felt disgusting, Arthur couldn't help laughing at Marceau's anger towards the deserts as though they could have taken themselves out of the oven or un-silenced Marceau's phone.

If each one ended up like that morning, Arthur would have to rethink not celebrating his birthday.

 **My tumblr is faerie-of-the-moonlight if you want to follow me there or just look at the original post.**

 **~ I take oneshot requests for FrUK ~**


	5. Dancing Alone

**Based on a prompt by otpimagines1 on tumblr**

 **( post/173142495584/otp-86-person-b-dancing-around-their-home)**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own the song that is referenced. (Artificial Skin by EVO+)**

Sometimes there was something as being too comfortable alone. Granted, he didn't live with anyone, but his boyfriend did have a key to his flat. Either way, there was no doubt Arthur wasn't paying attention as much as he normally did. It was hard, though, to pay attention when he had his headphones at full blast. How else was he supposed to stay sane while cleaning the place up?

The mess that his family left behind the previous night was enough for him to consider disowning them all. He was fairly sure that his brothers weren't such horrendous pigs in their own homes, so the mess was clearly an effort to get on his nerves.

It was just too bad for them that he had grown immune to it after their childhood. If nothing else, it was an excuse to destroy his eardrums further. (Marceau always made cracks about him going deaf at 40.) There weren't many ways to cure the monotony of cleaning out beer stains and digging under the couch for napkins, but Arthur managed it well enough.

Even with a hangover, he managed it. It helped to have good and high energy music for it. Especially with how much he hated cleaning, he had to have a playlist for it. Without music, he would've been dragging his brothers over to force them to clean their own damn mess.

And what a mess the playlist was. It was as eclectic in languages as it was in genres. What were people to expect, though, when he had lived in every part of the world thanks to his parents. (Being the son of an ambassador was... exhausting to say the least.) English, French, German, and Japanese were the most common-as well as what all he was fluent in. In terms of genre, there was a little bit of everything but country. He would cut both his ears off before listening to that garbage.

But, fantastic music or not, he really should have been paying attention to his surroundings. if he had, he would have heard Marceau call out to him and been able to save himself some embarrassment. Instead, though, he was oblivious and went on as if alone.

It would've been fine... if he hadn't been belting out the song he was listening to and sort of dancing as he cleaned. He was a good singer, according to the two people who have ever heard him, but Marceau never had. It was, admittedly, hilarious to walk in on Arthur completely oblivious and unaware. Especially considering the song in question was a Japanese techno song that he never would have expected to hear Arthur sing. Not that he could understand a single word of it.

At some point, Arthur moved just right to catch sight of Marceau leaning in the doorway with an amused smirk. Ten minutes later, Marceau swore to never speak of the high-pitch shriek that came out of Arthur's mouth. That didn't mean he couldn't laugh his ass off about it, though.

 **My tumblr is faerie-of-the-moonlight if you want to follow me there or just look at the original post.**

 **~ I take oneshot requests for FrUK ~**


	6. Is That a Knife?

**Based on a prompt by lux-literarum on tumblr**

 **post/172766486577/prompt-101**

 **This one is placed in a Skyrim AU because I felt like it.**

There was no better way to start the morning than being arrested by fucking Stormcloak soldiers. Especially when that soldier was an obnoxious Nord. Honestly. That was the exact reason Arthur never went to Markarth (other than the fact that he just generally hated the confusing city). Gilbert was probably the only guard in history that couldn't be bribed.

"Ya know, stealing from Silver-Blood probably wasn't your best idea," Gilbert remarked as he was rummaging through Arthur's bag.

"No, it was a good idea. What was a bad idea was not getting the fuck out of the Hold as fast as I could," Arthur said. He should've stolen a horse or paid the carriage driver extra gold.

Gilbert snorted and shook his head. Really, he was just giving Arthur a hard time. There was no way he could doom him to Cidna Mines. His best friend, Marceau, would rip his head off. Their "relationship" was way too complicated for him to figure out, but he knew it was a bad idea to put Arthur in jail. "Well, too bad for you that you didn't. Ready for a trip to Cidna?"

"Like you'll keep me there for long," Arthur snorted. He was nothing if not an escape artist. It was the reason he got sent on the riskier jobs for the Thieves Guild.

"Oh, I don't know. Cidna is pretty different compared to Dragonsreach." There wasn't anything worth notice in Arthur's bag. He must've stashed the gold somewhere else before going to sleep last night. "Alright, time to turn out your pockets."

"That's a little hard to do when you have me shackled," Arthur seethed.

"Eh, I can just do it myself," Gilbert shrugged, ignoring the glare Arthur gave him. He knew Arthur _hated_ people putting their hands on him, but he sure as hell wasn't unshackling him. He'd probably get stabbed.

That actually proved to be a valid concern after he pulled three knives out of four of the pockets on Arthur's belt. There were even hidden pockets and it was a little more awkward to find those. It was a lot of patting down and raised eyebrows. Some of the things Arthur had on him were interesting to say the least.

The fifth hidden pocket had something thin and pointed. Sighing slightly, Gilbert asked, "Is that a knife?"

Arthur glared at him and huffed. "No, I'm just _really_ fucking happy to see you- _yes_ , it's a bloody knife! How did a thick dumbass like you become a guard?"

Gilbert glared back briefly before taking the knife (more akin to a shiv) out. "Why the fuck do you have so many fucking knives?"

"People like you."

"Hmm... Well, I guess I'm just going to have to take extra measure to make sure you don't kill me."

Arthur's morning got even better when he had a sack tied over his head. He then made it his mission to drive Gilbert insane. Harassing him with smartass comments didn't seem to work, so he ended up singing the smartass comments. That got him gagged.

The only thing that tipped him off to something not being quite right about the trip was how long it took. The length was explained when he heard a wooden door get kicked open, cussing, and Gilbert remarking that Arthur was someone else's problem before throwing the captive headfirst into the apparent building. He hadn't been too surprised to see Marceau when the bag was taken off. The situation wasn't as funny to him as it was to Marceau. Unfortunately, awkward situations weren't too strange for them... especially if Gilbert was involved.

 **My tumblr is faerie-of-the-moonlight if you want to follow me there or just look at the original post.**

 **~ I take oneshot requests for FrUK ~**


	7. Impressions

**Based on a prompt by writing-is-ruining-my-life on tumblr**

 **post/173139640984/dialogue-prompt**

 **(Not super happy with this one, but oh well.)**

 **Loose fantasy AU**

For what it was worth, Arthur had to admit that the agent was attractive. Too bad he was in the way. And he clearly had made Arthur, too. So he wouldn't be getting into the safe or getting rid of the captain of the guard. That didn't mean he couldn't have a little bit of fun, though.

Since he was bored with the ball, Arthur made a point of making eye contact with the agent as he snuck out of the room. Right before walking out the door to the garden, he gave the man a short wink. He felt a bit ridiculous, but he always did when pulling tricks like that.

He didn't have to wait long after finding a secluded area in the rose garden. It only took the agent a few minutes to show up. The man gave him a dubious look and hovered at the edge of the little enclosure. "And what might you be doing here?" he asked.

Arthur shrugged and smirked slightly. "You tell me, Mr. Agent. What _am_ I doing here?"

The agent sighed. "Well," he started, "I would guess that you were trying to kill someone here or steal something. It depends on who you're really aligned with."

"Ah. I'm... aligned with myself, how about that? Or maybe I should say the highest bidder," he said as he leaned forward on his knees. Because he was sitting on the floor, he had to look up at the man. "Yet again I say 'or.' Because _you_ have screwed my plan up."

"And how have I done that?" The agent asked. Though he knew exactly how.

"By bloody being here and figuring me out, you prat," Arthur scoffed. "I was supposed to take out the captain of the guard. Without that money, I'm barely going to be able to eat, you fuck."

The man sighed again, rolling his eyes. "Honestly, I think you can quite acting, cher. No one can hear us."

Arthur frowned. "What makes you think I'm acting, Marceau. I am actually mad at you, I'll have you know. That kill was going to set me up for at least a month."

Marceau blinked then stepped into the enclosure and sat down with Arthur. "I'm sure you can find another job easily enough. Everyone has someone they want an assassin for."

"Maybe you don't realize this," Arthur huffed, "but I don't _like_ killing people if I don't have to."

Again, Marceau seemed surprised and tilted his head. "No offence, cher, but, ah, you seem like you want to murder everyone you meet."

"Want to and living with are two different things."

"Well..." Marceau thought about it for a moment. There wasn't really a lot he could do about mucking up Arthur's job. He knew the captain was a corrupt fuck, but Marceau's presence did make it hard for Arthur to do anything without causing suspicion or other issues. "I can't exactly give you the money, but I can still make it up to you."

Arthur wasn't really in the mood for being lovey-dovey, but it was hard to brush Marceau off. On a normal day it was a pain in the ass; on a night like that, it was practically impossible. Ultimately, Arthur couldn't complain too much. Marceau definitely owed him a lot of money, though.

 **My tumblr is faerie-of-the-moonlight if you want to follow me there or just look at the original post.**

 **~ I take oneshot requests for FrUK ~**


	8. Angreifer

**This one is based on a prompt requested by espisayer on tumblr. The prompt was taking one of three songs and making a story out of it in some way.**

 **I don't own Hetalia or the song; Angreifer by Unlucky Morpheus.**

World night at the bar was always interesting. Bands always played throughout Saturday night, but on the third Saturday of each month was World night. Basically that meant people could sing in any language they wanted, so long as it was one and not just random nonsense.

Now, Marceau had never actually worked one of these nights before. His shift was primarily Monday through Friday. However, he had to cover Gilbert's shift after the crazy ass German fool broke his arm. He could hardly mix drinks with his arm in a sling.

It wasn't his first experience with World night in general, but it was the first time he was there for most of the night. It was certainly… different. Some people seemed to think that they sounded better if they sang in anything other than English. It really just made them sound like they were blabbering nonsense into the microphone.

Honestly, he was glad to see what looked like an organized band start setting up. He did have a few concerns since the (surprisingly short) singer had about 100 piercings and black and pink dyed hair. He had heard his fair share of punk and metal bands and they really weren't his thing.

Of course, it was Saturday night so he didn't have a lot of time to contemplate what his ears were about to be assaulted with now. Drunks were insanely demanding and impatient. It was a good thing he had a lot of patience and was good with people.

He was surprised to hear a piano once the band was finished setting up. And then… Japanese? Apparently the punk singer was at least partially Japanese. And he actually had a really good voice. It was startling and probably the best he'd heard the entire night.

 _saigo no kioku kurayami no naka_  
me o korashita shikai ni  
tsumetaku fuseru haha no karada to  
museru hodo no chi no nioi

akumu no naka de dare ga tou  
"kōkai wa aru ka" to  
atama no naka no koe ga yobu  
keiriku o hatase to…

The song seemed fairly calm for about a minute. Then it was very clear that this band had a… predilection for metal. It really threw him for a loop when he heard screaming from the band. It was the black and pink haired singer but one of the other band members. Marceau couldn't get a very good look, but it might have been the drummer. The main singer, the frontman, had picked up a guitar sometime around when the song picked up.

Metal really wasn't Marceau's favorite type of music, but he had to admit (if he ignored the scream-o) that the band was good. It was curious that he had never heard anything from Gilbert about them.

So the lone Japanese act had been the best act of the night, by far. (The bar owner must not vet these people at all. Some of the "musicians" were atrocious.) They were also the longest act, remaining on stage for about half an hour altogether.

Marceau had been surprised again to suddenly see the singer in front of him and ordering a glass of spiced rum. While pouring the drink, Marceau couldn't help making a comment. "Tired your voice out, hm? I have to say, those songs were a lot more creative than the garbage we normally hear."

The man smiled faintly, but shook his head. "Thanks, but I didn't write them. We just played covers tonight," he said in perfect British English. The night was just full of surprises. Then again, his eyes were a vivid green and he certainly did look more Caucasian than Asian. He definitely had both in him, though.

"Ah, I see. Well, feel free to come back and play covers again next month. Hell, if you took over the entire night it would ease some bleeding ears."

The man laughed. "I don't know. Seems far-fetched."

"You never know. I'll definitely be back to hear you again if you play. Or, you know, I'm sure you could manage by yourself," Marceau smirked.

"Hm. Are you being honest or just trying to flirt with me?" he asked.

"How would you feel about both?"

"Keep going and we'll see."

 **My tumblr is faerie-of-the-moonlight if you want to follow me there or just look at the original post.**

 **~ I take oneshot requests for FrUK ~**


	9. You're in My Way

**Based on a prompt by writing-reading-bitch-queen on tumblr**

 **post/173242413870/dialogue-prompt-youre-in-my-way-kiss-me-and**

 **This includes mention of an OC as an ex.**

People didn't seem to understand that it was common courtesy to get out of the sleep deprived university student with the cart full of books. Arthur didn't particularly care if they had to get to work or class or whatever. He was the one stuck pushing around a 70 pound cart all around the fucking school. Why the hell was the library so far away from storage room, he didn't know but it made his job a lot harder.

It didn't help anything when certain people just frustrated him on purpose. Half the school could hear him chucking the latest dictionary at the head of his whore of an ex. Or maybe they just heard the cursing. Whatever the case was, the encounter left him in a sour mood for the rest of the trip to the library.

Surprisingly enough, his mood didn't improve any on nearly running his roommate over in the back entrance to the library. He wasn't particularly in the mood for Marceau's teasing or flirting. Their relationship was toeing the line of friends/boyfriends, but Arthur wasn't so sure that wouldn't get ruined soon.

"In a hurry, I take it? I'm sure that no one is dying for the newest encyclopedias," Marceau said. His tone was light and teasing, though he did notice Arthur's unhidden scowl.

"I'm not in the mood, alright? Can you just move?" he sighed. A headache had set in long ago and his patience had been worn thin. Amazing how two minutes with a dirtbag could ruin his day like that.

"Oh, come on. I'm sure I could help at least a little bit." There weren't many things that could put Arthur in such a slump, since he had been in a good mood that morning. Marceau could guess what had happened easily enough.

Arthur really did appreciate the thought, but it wasn't that easy. Not for him anyway. "Marceau. You're in my way."

"I suppose that I am." Smirking slightly, Marceau leaned over the cart and tilted Arthur's head upward by his chin. "Kiss me and I'll move."

"I could just run you over."

"But who would make your coffee in the morning?"

"Agh. Fine, you bastard."

No one would probably have expected Arthur to actually do it. Marceau actually hadn't. They hadn't kissed before, unless drunken accidents counted. The kiss had been short, but it was a significant step and marker for them.

When Arthur stepped back and smiled faintly, he raised an eyebrow. "Well? Can I go do my job now?"

Marceau had a delayed reaction, but he did step backwards and out of the way. "Of course." Once Arthur pushed the cart through, Marceau caught him around the waist, startling him. "When you're done, though, what do you say to dinner?"

Though caught off-guard by the contact, Arthur kept his composure fairly well. He could admit that he was still reeling from his last disaster of a relationship, but... He had known Marceau for a long time. Certainly long enough to know the same thing would never happen. "Sure. Your treat."

"Naturally," Marceau laughed. Before he walked away, he briefly kissed Arthur again. "I'll see you at the campus entrance, then."

 **My tumblr is faerie-of-the-moonlight if you want to follow me there or just look at the original post.**

 **~ I take oneshot requests for FrUK ~**


	10. Demons

**Based on a prompt by lux-literarum on tumblr**

 **post/173773394912/prompt-132-you-dont-touch-them-the-demon**

Admittedly, it had been very stupid to get involved with a human. Arthur knew that, but he was nothing if not a sucker for temptation and trouble. There was a reason the harshest boot camp in England kicked him out when he was 16. (He didn't know who his foster parents had been kidding.)

Though that didn't take into consideration the risks to Marceau. He thought he _had_ considered the risks, since he had explained it to Marceau. Evidently not. Then again, how could Arthur have considered that his cruel (and birth) family would send people to... "help him see their way."

The way to do that was _not_ by breaking into his lover's flat and threatening his life. They were smart enough to do it when Arthur wasn't there-or else the walls would be painted with their blood.

What they didn't take into account was that Arthur could sense his family a mile away. Not to mention the fact that he would be absolutely enraged at their presence. Considering what his family put _him_ through, he had hoped they hadn't been there long.

He didn't waste with subtlety after walking through the hallway. Preferring to make a statement, he kicked the door in and let part of his glamour fall. As soon as he took a step in, someone lunged at him with a knife, which he caught with his tail. "Now, you can all leave, or I can throw your bodies in the dump," he stated, giving the three intruders a cold glare.

Marceau was a little battered and exhausted, but he mostly just looked pissed off. Not that he could talk easily with a hand firmly on his throat. Not enough to choke him, but enough to be a threat. Especially considering the magic potential from the owner.

"Ha! Before or after we kill your boy-toy?" one of them asked. That man was the largest of the three and the one with his hand wrapped around Marceau's throat.

"You're the one with a choice here, boy," the eldest looking stated. "You can either be a good child and come back to your parents with us, or he'll die."

Arthur crossed his arms and pretended to think about it. "Well, let's see... Considering what my 'family' put me through, uhm... No. I will mail your heads back to them, though," he said with a cheery smile. "Because you people don't touch him. You can fuck with anyone but him."

The next ten minutes or so were chaos. The first thing he did was hurl the third man's knife at the large one, landing the knife straight in his head. The fight instantly turned to magic once the surviving two lost their glamours completely.

Arthur was sure that Marceau had passed out, so he didn't think twice about dropping his own glamour. He didn't have much concern about being able to handle the situation. There were only two of them and Arthur was raised to fight.

A couple hours later, Marceau woke up in a bed that was most definitely not his. After his confused haze passed, he realized that he was in Arthur's flat. It was less of a flat and more of a fucking penthouse, but technicalities...

He sat up to find Arthur sitting with his legs under him and his arms crossed. Marceau almost had to do a double-take as Arthur looked _very_ different than he was used to. He had seen Arthur before with the tail and horns, but not the crimson hair or wings. And definitely not the suit.

"What... the fuck happened...?" Marceau asked, sitting up slowly. "And... what the hell is this look?"

"Ah, family drama..." he told Marceau with a shrug. "I'll settle it soon enough. Do you not like this?" He didn't mind. He knew that form was substantially different than what Marceau was used to.

"Not... necessarily... dislike it... It's different," Marceau said. It wasn't how he knew Arthur, but it was still Arthur. Though he was admittedly too tired to really ask much about it. Something had exhausted him.

"Mhh... I think you should go back to sleep. You're probably still in shock," Arthur stated as he stood up and brushed Marceau's hair back. "I'll still be here." Maybe he used a bit of magic to relax Marceau, but it wasn't anything that crossed the line. And he was sure that Marceau would appreciate it later when the shit starts to hit the fan.

 **My tumblr is faerie-of-the-moonlight if you want to follow me there or just look at the original post.**

 **~ I take oneshot requests for FrUK ~**


	11. Don't Pet Me

**Based on a prompt by funpromptsforall on tumblr**

 **post/173745066085/dialogue-prompt-78-whos-a-good-kitty-please**

 **This one is a Wonderland AU, though roles are never explicitly stated. Arthur is the Cheshire Cat and Marshall (America) is the Knave of Hearts.**

His adoptive brother was always frustrating, but he was especially annoying whenever Arthur was sick. Contrary to popular belief, Marshall was competent enough to help treat a sick person. He liked to fool around, but he wasn't an idiot.

That said, he didn't seem to understand how painful a headache could be. Or that Arthur preferred to be alone when he was sick. He especially never took into consideration Arthur's heightened hearing due to his feline features. But he supposed that some company wasn't a _bad_ thing. He did know that Marshall had a job to do.

"Honestly, Marshall," he sighed, voice raspy and throat dry. "Aren't your superiors going to get frustrated with you for playing hooky?"

"Well, duh. But it ain't like it's gonna get back to the queen. They'll get over it," he shrugged. "No way I could leave my big bro to suffer with the flu all alone."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "You'd better hope it doesn't get back to the queen. I'm not going to be happy about saving your arse from one of her executions."

"Aww, Arthur, you do care!" Marshall laughed before hugging Arthur. This entire time, he hadn't cared about getting sick. He wasn't about to worry about it now. His laughter only increased when Arthur made a hissing sound. "Daw, who's a good kitty?" he chuckled as he patted Arthur's hair, mindful of the ears for once.

"Stop petting me," Arthur snarled as he pushed Marshall away. Or tried to. He may have been recovering, but his arms still didn't have much strength to them. The ever present fever made the position much more miserable.

"Alright, alright," he snickered, pulling back. "I'm glad to see your attitude is back. You scared the shit out of me." Arthur was notoriously stubborn, so he didn't tell anyone he got sick. And then he passed out when Marshall was visiting over the weekend. It was enough for a heart attack.

"Yeah, well... I'm fine now. So you can-"

"No, no, no. You're still burning, dude. I'm not going anywhere 'till the fever breaks." Then Marshall abruptly jumped up from the sofa and darted off. "Speakin' of which-I totally forgot your medicine!"

Watching Marshall blandly, Arthur sighed, but smiled. Maybe it wasn't so bad, even if Marshall was hyper. There was something nice about having company. And it was nice to see someone actually be concerned about him. Marshall may have had too much energy, but he was sweet.

At hearing a crash and shatter from the washroom, Arthur started to rethink his gratitude. He had a lot of time consuming potions and medicine in his washroom. "You are going to bloody pay for anything you broke!"

"I don't have that kind of money!" Marshall screeched.

 **My tumblr is faerie-of-the-moonlight if you want to follow me there or just look at the original post.**

 **~ I take oneshot requests for FrUK ~**


	12. Herrscher

**This one is based on a prompt requested by espisayer on tumblr. The prompt was taking one of three songs and making a story out of it in some way.**

 **I don't own Hetalia or the song; Herrscher by Yousei Teikoku**

There was something… invigorating about battle. It wasn't just the adrenaline–it was something more. Something… primal. Especially when the battle was waged against the cruel and capricious government.

The government had been corrupt for almost as long as the country had existed. The councilmen and their monkeys had ruined the lives of too many people to count.

Arthur had been a victim of the government, born and raised in a labor camp. The only reason he hadn't died in that camp at 15 like so many others was because he was smarter than the rest. He learned how to placate the soldiers and plan an escape. It was shockingly easy to get ahold of a gun when he was 13 and even easier to shoot the warden in the head.

Since then, it could be said that Arthur had formed a… rebellion of sorts. The government simply called them pirates; they didn't want to say it was a rebellion because rebellions inspired people. Pirates were the terrifying murders that razed your village.

The government could say whatever they wanted, though. It didn't matter because Arthur had a hard and fast rule about killing civilians. You didn't or you suffered the same fate. Soldiers and agents of the government, though, those were different. They deserved to experience every bit of hell that they put the people through.

The councilmen were the worst of the worst. So of course Arthur would leap at the opportunity to take one out. It would bring a lot of attention on him and his little group, but it was too good to pass up.

Ambushing the caravan had been child's play. Even now, they were still cocky and reckless. They didn't think there was any real risk to them. Well, they were wrong.

It was more than just any other assassination, though. This one was personal. Arthur was always disgusted by the fact that his father was a councilman. It was his father that sent his mother into the work camp when she was still pregnant. He didn't want an illegitimate child. So, when it came down to it, all the abuse and misery Arthur went through in his childhood was his father's fault.

He knew that most people would hesitate to put a bullet in the head of a family member. But for Arthur, it was cathartic. After pulling the trigger, he breathed a sigh before feeling… weightless. Joyful. It didn't make sense and it certainly wasn't healthy, but it was a massive weight off of his shoulders. One councilman down, 24 to go. By the time he was done, the country would enter a new era.

 **My tumblr is faerie-of-the-moonlight if you want to follow me there or just look at the original post.**

 **~ I take oneshot requests for FrUK ~**


	13. Hair as Soft as Down

**Based on a prompt by otpimagines1 on tumblr**

 **post/173412096501/otp-100-person-a-likes-bs-hair-always-plays**

Halloween parties were normally exciting. There were costumes, booze, and crazy ass people. (Namely, Gilbert who always started and ended the night by bouncing off the walls.) For some reason, however, that year's was just... boring.

There had been alcohol, sure, but it was mostly beer and wine. Nothing particularly hard. It felt more like a stuffy dinner party than anything. That was probably the fault of Claus, though. Marceau thought that he only hosted it so Feliciano would stop dragging him to the clusterfuck that the annual party normally was.

There was nothing wrong with wine or a calmer night, but it was insufferably boring. The only interesting thing was the way Gilbert endlessly harassed the host. A bored Gilbert was a dangerous Gilbert. Claus didn't seem to know that.

Marceau was sitting on the floor of the fucking ballroom (honestly, the man was a disgusting show-off) with Arthur's head on his lap. Wine always had the interesting effect of making him sleepy. It was only furthered along when the party was as boring as watching paint dry. Halfway through the night and Arthur was almost dead asleep.

At least Marceau could keep himself entertained by playing with Arthur's hair. It wasn't something he could normally do, as Arthur would always swat his hands away. It was a shame; his hair was so soft. It may have had a tendency to stick out everywhere, but it was like the fluff inside of a pillow.

Arthur opened his eyes, drowsy with wine and boredom. "What're you doin'?" he mumbled.

For being so prickly normally, he could really be adorable. Marceau couldn't help but smile. "Playing with your hair. It's so fluffy; I love it."

"You're weird," Arthur snorted. Though there was no doubting the sleepy smile had a tinge of love in it.

"Ah, but so are you. Besides, you like it. I can tell," Marceau chuckled.

"Mhh... Can we go yet...?"

"Don't you want to see if something interesting happens?" Marceau asked, glancing over to where Gilbert was arguing with Claus.

"Unless Gil kills 'im, nothing about this is 'interesting...'" Arthur sighed. "Please?"

Marceau couldn't help a small laugh. "Please" was a word that he rarely heard from Arthur. "Well, if you're asking so sweetly, how can I say no?"

That was the night that Marceau decided sleepy-drunk Arthur was a lot better than feisty-drunk Arthur. He would have to start keeping more wine than whiskey in their apartment. Especially if Arthur was happily acting clingy enough to wrap his arms around Marceau's waist as they walked out.

 **My tumblr is faerie-of-the-moonlight if you want to follow me there or just look at the original post.**

 **~ I take oneshot requests for FrUK ~**


	14. Ominous Fate

**Based on a prompt by daily-prompts on tumblr**

 **post/173984628154/prompt-983**

It was so easy to lead humans into temptation at a bar. Hell, the bar itself was temptation. Arthur didn't understand why they wanted to stick him in the damnable place. It was better suited for a rookie or freshly-fallen angel. _Not_ a veteran demon with a million better things to do.

It might've been more interesting if the patrons could see him, but he'd been given blatant orders to keep a veil up. So not only was his job too easy, but he was bored out of his mind. His boss should really know better than to give him, of all people, a boring assignment.

Arthur yawned and held his cheek. No one noticed him sitting on the edge of the bar nearest the door. His magic was too strong for that, after all. Being a fallen angel really did have its perks. If only it had given him a more interesting job; like corrupting the pope. That was always fun. The angels got so _angry._

When someone new walked in, Arthur decided the job was not only boring but a small form of torture. There was finally someone interesting to look at in the bar and there was no way for Arthur to do anything with the man. If he ignored the parameters, he'd get his ass handed to him. (And no one wanted to piss of the head honcho of the demons.)

Arthur stared and stalled, though, when the newcomer-with shoulder-length blonde hair and bright blue eyes-paused with a frown. After a moment, the stranger turned that confused and anxious look towards him. It was almost as if they made eye-contact. But then an apparent friend showed up and dragged the man off.

Arthur was nothing if not curious. A demon form of the Cheshire Cat, he'd been told. So of course the stranger would get his attention. The rest of the bar certainly didn't need his help falling into "sin." There was something different about this one, though. Even if for a moment, he could see Arthur.

Suddenly, he realized why he had been stuck in the bar for a week. There was an "anomaly" in France. A person who... defied the rules of demons and angels and magic. Arthur could practically feel the tension growing between the two sides. God may not have existed, but that didn't keep the two races from ripping each other to pieces over humans and their silly beliefs.

Since there didn't seem to be any angels around, though, Arthur decided to take the initiative. To keep from giving half the bar heart attacks, he stepped into the bathroom before dropping the veil. Of course he had to put on a glamour, or else show his horns and wings, but that barely took any effort at all.

Smirking faintly, he strolled out of the bathroom and walked right passed the table the stranger had sat at. The man looked up, of course, and looked startled. Based on the size of his eyes and the way he openly gawked at Arthur told him everything. He could see through the illusion.

Arthur turned around just right to give the man a knowing smirk and wink. His friends seemed to think that the stranger considered Arthur attractive and gave him shit, but it was more than that.

Before he did anything else, though, Arthur ordered a drink. If nothing else to make the curious man think he was going crazy. No one else was reacting to Arthur, after all. They all saw a normal man in a bar order a glass of rum. No one saw the demon underneath the mask.

After finishing his drink-and being extremely aware of the man who kept looking at him-Arthur simply walked out. He gave one last glance to the stranger before going out the door. Then, of course, he stood against the wall and waited.

It was maybe 10 minutes before the man came out and looked around dubiously. When he and Arthur made eye contact, Arthur smirked. "Hello there. My name's Arthur. What's yours?" he asked in perfect French.

The man stared and blinked as if he was looking at some bizarre creature. Maybe he was. "What... the fuck... are you...?"

"A demon, of course. And your new best friend," he smirked. In a way, that was true. If the angels got ahold of him, they'd crucify him just like they always did before. "So, your name?"

"I... Wh... Uhm, M-Marceau... A demon?" "Marceau" started to look a little dizzy. Probably a mix of whiskey and shock.

"Oh, yes. Perhaps we should go back to your place before I explain your situation," Arthur said. The man frowned at him with a slight blush, obviously misunderstanding. "Mh, I appreciate the thought, but that's not what I meant. You're going to be in for a shitstorm now, so I think you would like to know what that means." Maybe later Arthur would try, but he wanted to get his newest job underway as soon as possible.

 **My tumblr is faerie-of-the-moonlight if you want to follow me there or just look at the original post.**

 **~ I take oneshot requests for FrUK ~**


	15. Full of Rage

**Based on a prompt by otpimagines1**

 **post/173393243554/otp-99-person-a-youre-so-cute-person-b-i-am**

There were various reasons Arthur hated secondary school. One of them was the ever obnoxious rugby team that _loved_ to harass him. Another was how the headmaster of the school hated him for some obscure reason. And then there was Marceau Châtelet...

Once upon a time, they had gotten along fantastically as children. As teenagers, though, Marceau drove Arthur up a wall. It was incessant flirting and prank pulling with his two friends. It was like he enjoyed making Arthur's days even more stressful.

That day was no different than the rest. He narrowly avoided the rugby team, fortunately, but then of course Marceau stopped him in the courtyard. (Funny how going to a fancy private school had never helped him avoid the bullying.)

"What?" Arthur asked, irritation tinting his voice. "I'm not really in the mood."

"Ah, but you're never in the mood," Marceau pointed out. "Would it really kill you to be nice to me for once?"

"Well, considering that you only ever go out of your way to frustrate me? It might." He could never understand Marceau's interest in him either.

Marceau sighed with a smile. Arthur was really horribly oblivious. "Ah, but you're so much fun to rile up. That blush you always get is adorable."

"Oh, sod off," Arthur growled before marching away. He just wanted to start his day in peace. Marceau knew damn well he wasn't a morning person.

The rest of the morning went smoothly. His morning classes were easy; history, English, and sociology. They were easy for him at least. Anything that didn't involve math or science was a piece of cake.

And then there was lunch. Lunch break either went wonderfully easy or atrociously horrible. It all depended on who decided to stop him on his way off campus. (He never ate on campus because it was inviting trouble.)

That particular day went fantasticly. Fantasticly horrible that is. He fucking hated the rugby team. At the very least, they didn't beat him up. No, they decided to ambush him and drag him to the fucking pool. Now, Arthur could technically swim... just not very well.

There was also a certain level of panic associated with being _thrown_ into the deep end. Arthur's cursing was probably heard all over campus. (He did not screech, no matter what anyone says.) It was mid-October, so the water was cold and chilling.

Between the shock of being thrown in water and the temperature of the water, Arthur gasped out of instinct and inhaled water. His clothes were heavy and his eyes stung from the chemicals. Panic set in as he flailed. Somehow, he pulled himself to the surface and swam to the edge of the pool.

As he coughed up a small amount of water, one of the bastards shoved his head back under water. He started panicking again. He tried to yank the person in with him, but he didn't have the strength.

Suddenly, the pressure and hand vanished and Arthur was able to surface again. He was gasping for air and glared venomously at the hand in his face. The voice he heard shocked him though.

"There's no need to give me that look, cher. Don't glare at the person who helped you," Marceau said with a concerned smile.

Arthur blinked up at him, startled and unsure. Marceau would never _actually_ hurt him, though, so he took the hand and allowed Marceau to pull him out. "I'm going to fucking kill someone," Arthur seethed. He'd been on his best behavior since he started attending that school, but, really, he always got into fights and knew damn well how to hurt someone.

"Now, now. You look like a drowned cat; hardly very threatening," Marceau smiled.

"Fuck you! I'm not putting up with this bullshite anymore!" Arthur snarled. His face was red and his eyes probably were too. He was out of breath-the rage wasn't helping anything.

Neither was Marceau's laughter. "Ah, I'm sorry... It's just... Your so cute," he said.

Arthur's eye surely started twitching. "I-I am not _cute!_ I'm full of fucking bleeding _rage!"_ he outright yelled.

Unfortunately, Marceau just laughed. "Ah, I-I can see that. It's still cute, though... We should get you to the nurse's office."

Arthur fought Marceau the entire way, shouting and cursing while he smacked at his guiding arm. But he really didn't mind. Marceau's concern was comforting. Hopefully those assholes would get expelled and arrested.

 **My tumblr is faerie-of-the-moonlight if you want to follow me there or just look at the original post.**

 **~ I take oneshot requests for FrUK ~**


	16. Guardian Angel

**Based on a prompt by promptsforthestrugglingauthor on tumblr.**

 **post/172347726066/writing-prompt-439?is_related_post=1**

He woke up in a plush chair. It was a bright red and sort of hurt his eyes. The room he was in was white and plain. There was a simple wooden door about 20 feet away. It was the only thing in the room other than the chair.

It didn't make any sense. The last thing he remembered was... standing on the sidewalk, waiting for the light to turn. How did he get in this room?

"Am... Am I..." Marceau couldn't get the words out. It seemed to be quite a leap. There had to be a reasonable explanation.

"Dead as a doorknob? Sure are," a voice said from behind him. It was a strangely British voice and it scared the shit out of him.

Marceau leaped out of the chair to look at the person behind him. He... didn't quite know what to say or think. It was a guy, around his age, with choppy blonde hair and bright green eyes. He... also had wings and... was wearing this strange... toga-thing?

"Erm... What..." Maybe not dead, but definitely high out of his mind.

"Sit back down before you hurt yourself," the guy sighed. Sure enough, Marceau's legs felt like jelly and he had to sit. The weird... Greek-British angel(?) floated past him and stood on the floor. "You're dead. I'm-Or I _was_ your guardian angel."

Marceau blinked several time before slumping in the chair. He was dead. It was shocking, but it didn't scare as much as it should have. Maybe it was because he didn't have any attachment to his life. His parents had disowned him for being gay and he didn't have any friends after he got his shit together. He had a job, but he hated it.

"So I... I'm dead? That's just..." Marceau sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Wait... If you're my guardian angel..."

"Why are you dead?" the guy finished. "Well, we're only allowed to do so much. _You_ have been so much work that I had to make guesses on whether or not to interfere. Plus, everyone has a time when they're _supposed_ to die. Yours was today."

"Oh, well, that's just..." Marceau groaned. After sitting there for felt like a moment but was really half an hour, he realized he had a _lot_ of questions. "Who are you? Other than my 'guardian angel'?"

The angel hesitated, but eventually answered. "Arthur."

"Okay... What happens now? I don't see any 'pearly gates' or 'God.'" He didn't know if his mocking tone was dangerous or not, but he couldn't help himself. Religion had never done anything for him.

"God is a human construct," Arthur shrugged. "Angels rule themselves. What happens now depends on you. You can... give up your 'afterlife' and fade away or you can take on a new life as an angel."

So basically he had the choice to die (again) or restart as... an angel. With no "God" figure bossing him around like he imagined. "I.. I don't know... I don't even know how I died..."

"That's because you wouldn't be able to handle the memory. It's the same for everyone," Arthur told him. "You'll remember when you can live with it. As ironic as that is."

"Right..." How was he supposed to process his death and then make a decision on his afterlife? Arthur hadn't said anything about time to make the decision, so clearly he was supposed to decide right away. It wasn't that simple, though. He had nothing to really grieve for before (he was still... there, anyway, so it was weird to think he was "dead") but he didn't have anything now either. It wasn't like he had dead relatives or family he had been eager to see.

Arthur seemed to be willing to wait patiently, though. He never interrupted Marceau as he thought about it. The silence was oppressive, but it was a decision he had to make without distraction.

Finally, he said, "I don't... want to fade away. I'm not sure what all this angel business will be, but... I'm not willing to die for nothing."

"Oh, _finally,"_ Arthur sighed. "It only took you three bloody days!"

"What?" Marceau couldn't wrap his head around that. It only felt like an hour.

"Your sense of time is fucked up since you died. You'll readjust," Arthur told him. "But I guess people have taken longer."

"S-still! Three days? How am I not starving?"

"Because you're dead. Until you've become an angel, you're a ghost. You have no bodily needs or functions. You breathe and blink out of habit, but there's really no need at this point."

The new information just made Marceau's head spin. How was he supposed to just... accept that? Well, he was dead, so there wasn't really a lot to argue with. He sighed and let his head rest against the chair's back. "So... when I... become an 'angel,' it'll be just like when I was alive?"

"You'll have wings, but for the most part, yes."

"Uh-huh... Will I have to wear that ridiculous outfit?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at Arthur.

"No. Blame this on yourself. My clothes are decided based on your imagery of angels," Arthur stated with a slightly bitter tone. "I feel just as stupid as you think I look."

Maybe it wasn't completely... stupid. Arthur was definitely cute. The outfit was odd, but there was something about it. "Hmm... Maybe not stupid. Strange, sure, but... It looks good on you."

Arthur blushed and glared at him. "Sure, sure, whatever you say. Let's just go already. I'm sick of this getup."

It would take Marceau time to adjust, but Arthur could help him along. That was another part of his job. If the human he was watching wanted to become an angel, he had to help them learn the ropes.

 **My tumblr is faerie-of-the-moonlight if you want to follow me there or just look at the original post.**

 **~ I take oneshot requests for FrUK ~**


	17. Hands On for Charity

**Based on a picture sent to me by espisayer on tumblr.**

Working as a waiter was not Arthur's first choice of a job. If you could call it that. It was only for the day, but he still wasn't a fan of it. He just had to remind himself that it was for charity. Every meal and every tip went straight various animal charities in England. That was more than enough of a reason to smile and be as nice and sweet as possible.

Anytime someone who knew him came into the garden-turned-high-class-restaurant, Arthur felt the need to sigh. When the day was over, he was surely going to be mocked for weeks. It wasn't like him to be so amiable, patient, or tolerating of people. His bitter heart had a soft spot for animals, though.

At least he didn't have to do it all by himself. Marshall-ever the human puppy-was charming all of his table out of their life-savings. Who said that he wasn't smart? He definitely knew how to talk people out of money, that was for sure. (Arthur was impressed and a little proud.)

As for the rest of the help... Well, Marceau was certainly good at sweet-talking people. But Arthur had already known that. Not that Arthur had any issue with it. He was doing his fair share of sucking-up, too. The problem was that Marceau kept making smart remarks every time they passed.

"Honestly, Arthur. If you were this sweet normally, you'd have people lining up at your dorm room asking for dates," Marceau remarked. Though he would have quite an issue with that. It was fortunate for his... endeavor to convincing Arthur to go out with him that very few people knew how he was under the frigid exterior.

"That sounds terrifying," Arthur muttered. He had dealt with random people hitting on him while they were working. He didn't appreciate it, but played along with a plastered on smile. He had to, even if some of the "patrons" remarks bordered on harassment.

An order came up, so Arthur had to walk away. It was getting more hectic and Arthur was getting worn out. He didn't normally interact with so many people. He had to start a mental chant of, "It's for charity," just to keep from smacking some of the people.

He was taking the order of some of Marceau's friends (Gilbert and Ramiro), when Marceau walked by him. He didn't think anything of it, really. They all walked by all the time. And then.. he felt what was surely not Marceau's hand on his ass.

His eye twitch, which didn't go unnoticed by the two "customers." He wondered if Marceau hadn't been put up to it by them. Unfortunately, Marceau was smart enough to walk away before Arthur could retaliate.

Arthur took their orders before stalking off. It was hard for him to be sweet and charming, but he could certainly play it up more if it was going to piss Marceau off. He wasn't an idiot. He could tell that Marceau was jealous. (Honestly, he probably liked playing with fire in that sense.)

And, of course, he saw the perfect chance to a mere two minutes later. He didn't like to encourage any of the customers in flirting. But it was too tempting to make Marceau mad. Especially because Marceau was only two tables over.

"So what're you doing when you get done here?" the man asked.

"Mh. I'm not sure. I would probably help clean up, but I think they have people volunteering purely for that," Arthur said. "Why?"

"Oh, I was just wondering. I'm sure you're hungry after having to serve all of this food with no break."

"Well, I don't have any plans once I get out of here, I suppose..." Arthur mused. Or pretended to.

"That's surprising," he chuckled. "So how about dinner? There's a nice Italian place on campus."

"Maybe, but-"

Arthur was cut off by Marceau catching him by the arm and dragging him away with a stiff, "Can I talk to you?" For once, Arthur didn't fight him and let Marceau pull him behind a high hedge.

"Is there a problem?" Arthur asked innocently. He wondered if his "naive, innocent, and oblivious" act had ever worked on Marceau.

"What are you doing?" Marceau asked tersely. "If I flirt with you, I get smack upside the head."

"Hmm... I don't seem to recall doing _anything_ when you put your hand on my arse," Arthur said, poking Marceau in the chest.

"So you're being petty by letting some random loser flirt with you?" What sense did that make? Especially considering Arthur refused advances like he was allergic to them.

"Are you jealous, Marceau?" Arthur asked with a smirk.

"There's nothing to be jealous _of,"_ Marceau snorted. "You're hardly going to go out with him. I really doubt you would pick some random person for your first date."

Arthur stalled before laughing. Apparently, Marceau had fallen for it. He had only ever started it so he could have a better experience in university than secondary school. He didn't think it would actually work so well. He would have to ruin Marceau's illusion, then.

He leaned in with a smirk and spoke in Marceau's ear. "Hate to break it to you, love, but I'm a long ways away from being a virgin," he said before kissing Marceau right below the ear.

He cackled slightly as he walked away. Marceau was staring at him and a little red in the face. "Wh-hey!"

"What?" Arthur asked coyly as he stopped. "We can talk later in my dorm, if you want." He took a special pride in flustering Marceau. Now, if only the day could end quickly so he could get out of the damn monkey suit they put him in.

 **My tumblr is faerie-of-the-moonlight if you want to follow me there or just look at the original post.**

 **~ I take oneshot requests for FrUK ~**


	18. Nightclub

**Based on a picture sent to me by espisayer on tumblr.**

 **WARNING: This chapter deals has suggestive themes (there's a stripper).**

Marceau was torn between hating his job and loving it. It certainly wasn't his first choice... But he hadn't been left with a lot of choices. Which could be said for most of his coworkers. Some more than others. Marceau was probably lucky compared to most of them there.

He had never _wanted_ to work as a bartender in a strip club. But he had really needed the money. Not enough to loosen his morals, but the job itself was questionable. He tried to put it out of his mind, as he knew it was only temporary, but...

Well, he really shouldn't have started paying attention to the dancers. One in particular. Arthur was an odd one. He vehemently hated what he did, but Marceau had never seen him do anything to get out of the job. Then again, he knew why Arthur did it in the first place.

It took a long time after Marceau started working there for Arthur to open up any. It had been alcohol that ultimately did the trick, even if Marceau had concerns about how much he drank. Arthur wasn't stuck working there because of an addiction-the worst thing he did was smoke cigarettes and occasionally chug whiskey. It was the massive debt with the Irish Mob that his father dumped on him.

The majority of it was paid, thanks to Arthur selling virtually every thing his father had owned. But there was still a debt. He had been inexperienced and young. There weren't a lot of options for him to make money. So a now-ex talked him into taking his current job. He had always hated it and he always would.

It was frustrating for Marceau, though, that he was there. When he had first met Arthur in the backroom, he thought he was cute. He had hoped that Arthur had just been a bartender or waiter. Granted, he was _sort of_ dressed like one, but he was far from a waiter.

They had developed a routine since they worked the same shift. Normally, they would sit in the back and talk for a while as Arthur de-stressed with a glass of whiskey or rum. (It depended on how the night went.) That night was different, though. The managed had "suggested" Arthur work a longer shift. So Marceau was done while Arthur was still stuck working.

Marceau would've felt bad for leaving him to suffer, so he came up with a plan. He was actually doing a lot better than when he took the job. So he had some money to spare. Not nearly as much as the regular "patrons" (creeps) who came to the club, but... enough.

He could see Arthur giving him a hidden, confused look when he walked over and beckoned him down. He quickly hopped off the stage and walked over to where Marceau had sat down.

"Isn't your shift over?" Arthur asked, resting a hand on his hip and tilting his head.

Marceau always found it hard not to stare at Arthur if he hadn't changed yet. The outfit (if it could even be called that) was ridiculous, but... it served its purpose well. Tempting anyone who took a look at Arthur. "Well, yes, but I thought I would come visit."

"Uh-huh... After all the time's you've tried to get me a normal job...?" Arthur asked slowly. He wasn't sure what Marceau was thinking.

"Well... It hasn't worked so far," Marceau said with a weak smile. "So I might as well offer you a break."

"And... how're you going to do that?" He didn't have the cash to keep Arthur for the remainder of his shift.

Or so Arthur thought until Marceau held out some money to him. "Like this. I've been building a little stash for something like this."

Arthur blinked at the money before taking it and counting it. Definitely enough for the rest of his shift. "I'm... Marceau, I can't..."

"You can and you will. It's a better step towards getting that debt off your shoulders, right?"

It took Arthur another moment before stashing the cash. "Alright... Well... I still need to _act_ like I'm working." Or else he would get his ass handed to him by the manager.

"I'm sure you could sit down for a moment without getting in trouble."

Arthur considered before saying, "I suppose I could." He had little embarrassment in sitting directly on Marceau's lap. He only laughed at the startled expression given to him. "Do you really think I have any shame left at this point?" he asked.

It was... a little awkward for Marceau. But he could get used to it in a different scenario. "Well, I would imagine you have _some._ But... I'm not complaining," he stated with a slight smirk.

"Hm. Well... Suppose we met anywhere but here," Arthur started as he reached around to mess with Marceau's hair. It could've been a normal conversation he was starting, but he had to act a certain way. "If I asked you out... What would you say?"

Marceau blinked at him. This was a strange question. "Arthur, cher... If you asked me out _now_ , I would say yes."

"Really? And my 'job?'"

"You know I don't like this. Whether we're friends, friends-with-benefits, or dating; I'm not comfortable with it," Marceau stated. It was something Arthur already knew, though.

"Hmm... Well... When my shift is finally over... How about you go with me into the manager's office, accompany me when I turn in my notice, and then we can have dinner to celebrate my new job?" Arthur asked with a smile.

Part of Marceau wanted to say that Arthur was kidding. But he knew better. Arthur had been trying the entire time to get a normal job and never getting anywhere. "You're serious? Arthur, that's-" He cut himself off to briefly kiss Arthur. He had to keep it short or there'd be major issues, but he was thrilled. "Finally!"

Arthur laughed. "Excited, are we?"

"More than you can imagine!" With Arthur leaving, it wouldn't be long before Marceau did, too. He would be lying if he said he hadn't been staying there just to keep an eye on Arthur.

"That's all well and good, but what about my question? Are we going to celebrate or not?"

"Of course. You don't even have to ask," Marceau said, grinning like crazy. It was the best news Arthur could've given him.

 **My tumblr is faerie-of-the-moonlight if you want to follow me there or just look at the original post.**

 **~ I take oneshot requests for FrUK ~**


	19. Le Bien Qui Fait Mal

**Based on a prompt sent to me by espisayer on tumblr.**

 **I do not own Hetalia or the song this is based on:** **Le Bien Qui Fait Mal**

Arthur couldn't sleep. It wasn't an unheard of for him to have a sleepless night, but the reason for the insomnia was… unusual. Not in the sense that he had company, but that, for once, he wasn't drunk.

Marceau was fast asleep next to him and Arthur wanted nothing more than to jump out of bed and bolt out the door. This time, he had only drank enough that it tainted his breath, but he pretended to be more drunk than he was. He hated himself for it. He never should've fallen into the old routine (relatively) sober.

The only thing keeping him from leaving was the fact that he didn't know where the hell his clothes were. He would have to wait until the sun started to peek out to avoid grabbing something that wasn't his. There was no doubt in his mind he would be awake until then.

It had been an experiment on Arthur's part. It only ever happened when they were drunk out of their minds and they never talked about it. Would he still fall for the advances if he were sober? The results of the experiment left him unable to play ignorant to his own feelings any more.

"You are a fucking idiot," Marshall told him the following morning. Arthur was exhausted after sneaking out of Marceau's flat at the crack of dawn, but Marshall had no sympathy for him. Their string of one-night-stands had gone on for too long and he was sick of it.

"Excuse me…?" Arthur asked, looking up at him from the morning's fourth cup of coffee.

"This–this–this fucked up game of chicken you're playing with Marceau? It is killing you! You're not normally this stupid, Arthur." When it came to Marceau, though, Arthur usually did something fairly dumb. Like the last three months.

"I don't think it's any of your business," he sighed. He knew Marshall meant well, but he didn't want to have the conversation.

"How is it not? You come home after binge drinking looking like someone killed the cat! You need to talk to him, Arthur," Marshall said. Ordered, actually. He had never given Arthur that kind of look before, but he had a feeling he was about to be smacked.

"Ugh, I'm not talking about this with you. I need to get ready for work and you need to go to class already," Arthur groaned as he stood up. He wasn't going to talk about it with Marshall. He had to figure out how he was going to survive working with Marceau.

Mondays were already miserable at the most basic level. But that particular Monday was a living hell for Arthur. He could barely look at Marceau and it was painfully obvious. So of course Marceau just had to pull him off to the break room to talk.

"What the hell, Arthur? Why are you avoiding me so much?" he hissed. He looked just as tired as Arthur was, but more frustrated.

"I'm… not avoiding you," Arthur lied. He absolutely was. It hurt to be around Marceau. Every "one-night-stand" hurt. He didn't want to be the idiot masochist who dug a pit for himself. "I'm just tired."

"I can tell that." He looked like he hadn't slept at all. "You are absolutely avoiding me, though. Look, if it's about last night–"

"Stop right there," Arthur said harsher than intended. "It has nothing to do with that. If it puts your mind at ease, I'm avoiding everyone. So just… leave me in peace."

Marceau obviously didn't believe him. Rather than continue arguing with him, though, he clicked his tongue and walked off. "Fine. You can fool yourself, but not me."

Arthur wished that he could be honest. He was just terrified that it would go horribly. As much as the current situation hurt him, rejection would only be worse. His life certainly didn't need to get worse.

It seemed that he simply shouldn't think such things, as his life could easily get worse. He had to keep from cursing Marceau out when he walked into Arthur's little office. "What do you want now? I already told you to leave me alone today."

"Ah, but I can't do that. You see," he sighed as he sat on Arthur's desk right next to him, "I just had a very interesting conversation with Marshall."

Instantly, Arthur's stomach dropped. "What? How? He should still be in class right now."

"I called him on break," Marceau shrugged. "It seems that… I may have… misunderstood your stubbornness."

"How so?" Arthur asked, gritting his teeth. He would have to kill Marshall. It didn't matter if he was like family; he should've kept his damn mouth shut.

"Well… I always thought that you were indifferent to… us. Me," Marceau sighed. Suddenly he looked drained and worn out. " _But_ I had a theory, so I called Marshall. No one knows you best after all."

"And?" Arthur was impatient. If he was going to be mocked, better to just get it over with.

"And I'm sorry. I wish that we could've cleared this up sooner," Marceau said with a small smile. "I've been… indescribably selfish." Before Arthur could demand any answers, Marceau leaned down and kissed him.

Arthur's face immediately lit up bright red and he froze as he stared at Marceau. "Wh… Wh…" His brain wasn't working properly. "What're… you…"

"How about… no more of these drunk episodes…?" Marceau asked. "Instead… we can go out to dinner and make up for lost time? I'll call Feliciano and see if he can grab us a table right after work, hm?"

Arthur could form a verbal response, but he did manage to nod weakly. Apparently, his life could get worse, but it may only get better. So long as he didn't get his hopes up too high, maybe this could work out… (And maybe Marshall would get to live, too.)

 **My tumblr is faerie-of-the-moonlight if you want to follow me there or just look at the original post.**

 **~ I take oneshot requests for FrUK ~**


	20. Just a Kiss

**Based on a picture sent to me by espisayer on tumblr**

Arthur had thought that working as a guard would be more... interesting. Instead, it was stale. He was sure it had something to do with the... homicidal nature of the queen, but the capital of the Kingdom of Hearts still shouldn't be so quiet. Rarely anything ever happened.

The most work Arthur ever had to do was to pull a certain hyper child out of people's yard or (for some damn reason) dumpsters. It was otherwise a very droll job and a thankless one. He wasn't paid well enough for staying on his feet all day with nothing to do.

It was probably the tedium of his job that always made him happy to see Marceau. He was a flirt and loved teasing Arthur, but he livened things up when he came into the city. (And he did so without running amok like some children.) That said, Arthur took some issues with his laid-back attitude at times.

"You know you can't sit on the fountain, Marceau," Arthur sighed as he walked up to him. His feet were killing him, so he ended up leaning on the cane/sword that was normally fasted to his hip. "It's-"

"A national monument," Marceau finished. "I believe that you know I don't care. It wouldn't kill you to sit down as well."

"It might..." Arthur sighed. He wasn't overly fond of the new queen. "You're gonna have to get up."

"There's no reason to. It's not like you're going to arrest me," Marceau scoffed.

A reason. Great. They'd gone through this before and they ended it with Marceau off the fountain and Arthur out 100 gold. "I'm not giving you any money this time..." he remarked with the rabbit ears atop his head going flat in annoyance.

Marceau looked up at him with a smirk. "Oh, no. No money this time. Something free that shouldn't pain you to part with."

The problem with the situation was that Marceau was not a person he wanted to bargain with. He knew how to get what he wanted one way or another and wasn't afraid to manipulate people. Arthur had enough experience with Marceau, though, to know that he wasn't in any... serious danger. Other than his pride. "Eh?" Arthur sighed. "And what the hell is that?"

"A kiss," Marceau said as though it was no big deal. He was grinning too.

Arthur could feel his face heating up and scowled at Marceau. "You can't be serious. Marceau, I'm not going to kiss you just to get your arse off the fountain."

"Well, it's either a kiss or 600 gold," he plainly stated.

Now Arthur could feel his eye and ears twitch. "You bastard... You just racked up a debt to someone again, didn't you? Who was it this time?"

"That's hardly important. So what do you say?"

"You know I can't afford that," he hissed. "You took half my pay last time!"

"I'm still amazed you can survive from so little money." Marceau thought it was criminal how little they paid him. Especially since Arthur had always been thin as is and had only lost weight since he started the job.

"That's not the point! Would you just get up?" It wouldn't be a problem if the other guards weren't such assholes. There was always something Arthur did that they took issue with. If they knew he let Marceau get away with shit (even minuscule pointless things), he'd be drug before the queen.

"You know your options, cher. It's up to you to decide what to do."

Arthur was livid. Marceau knew damn well he wasn't going to get that kind of money from him. "You're an arse, you know. I can't believe I'm going to bloody..."

Arthur had barely started to lean down to Marceau when a certain child (the little bastard) ran by and saw a perfect opportunity. It wasn't that Marshall hated Arthur. He was just too much fun to mess with. So of course he wouldn't pass up the chance to shove him into the fountain.

It was a miracle of some sort that Arthur didn't take Marceau with him. Arthur had almost instantly pushed himself out of the water. "You little brat!" he snarled as he stood up. He was completely soaked despite only falling in above his waist.

The child ran away before Arthur could get his wits about him. It was probably for the best, as Marceau wasn't done with him. Certainly not now. "Hey, I still never got my kiss," Marceau said with a smirk and chuckle as he patted Arthur's ass right below the fluff of tail.

Arthur immediately yelped and whirled around on him. His face was comically red and his eye was twitching with aggravation and embarrassment. "Would you bloody stop?!" Arthur demanded, pointing a finger at him.

Marceau's smirk grew as he took Arthur's hand. "Just give me a moment." Without giving Arthur time to react, Marceau pulled Arthur down by his hand just enough that he could kiss him.

There was a split second where he thought he got away with it. Arthur had stared at him in surprise and didn't seem angry. Then he got smacked and Arthur started to storm away while ranting under his breath. His entire neck was as red as Marceau's cheek.

It hurt like a bitch, but Marceau couldn't say it wasn't worth it. Eventually, he would win Arthur over and get him out of the capital. He would just have to keep trying.

 **My tumblr is faerie-of-the-moonlight if you want to follow me there or just look at the original post.**

 **~ I take oneshot requests for FrUK ~**


	21. I Have Something to Ask You

**Based on a picture sent to me by espisayer on tumblr**

Arthur never knew whether he despised formalities or found it amusing. He was obligated to follow formalities as the prince, but... Well, he hated his position in the kingdom, so it wasn't always enjoyable.

Especially when people flocked to him to try to win his favor. It was annoying. Yes, he was the prince. But he was also Fae and temperamental and the people today were rapidly getting on his last nerve.

When he saw Marceau walking up with that damn smirk, he wanted to throw all formalities aside and jump the back of his chair and run away. His father would be furious if he did that, though. Cursing his fate, Arthur kept his expression impassive and neutral. He would not show any sort of emotion.

"Arthur, cher. I almost thought I wouldn't get a chance to see you today," he smirked. Arthur... really wasn't sure what to think of it. Part of him wanted to smack Marceau, the rest of him... he didn't acknowledge.

"Well, that would have been a shame," Arthur stated, Even he didn't know if he was being sarcastic or not. Recent... events had really thrown him off. It bothered him in a multitude of ways. "I should think that everyone could make an exception and get out of the way, though."

"Ah, true. I suppose I will have to get used to the... privileges I have now." There was something about his tone that Arthur didn't like. "Perhaps we should step away from the court to discuss those, hm?"

Arthur allowed himself a small laugh even though his throat felt clogged. "The implications of that would cause the court gossipers to have a fit. I'll have to decline."

"Not even briefly? I should think most of the court knows that you're far from innocent," he grinned.

Arthur considered himself fortunate for all the practice he had in controlling his reactions. His scowl wasn't an instinctual reaction, but a purposeful one. On the inside, he was smirking and sorely tempted to sneak off with Marceau. And then there was the part of him that was still flustered and not sure how to treat anything anymore. "I think that my 'innocence' is none of the court's business. That stays between me and whoever I should wed."

"Ah, about that..." Marceau's smirk turned into a smile. Arthur felt his heart lurch and regretted not running away like he had first wanted to. "Have you thought much about your father's announcement yesterday?"

"I haven't," Arthur lied, managing not to stammer. The truth was that he had spent far too much time thinking about it. So much that he stayed up at night. "I wasn't given any notice from my father beforehand, so I was rather blindsided."

"That certainly sounds like your father. Always trying to test you." And what better way to test him than to force him into marrying... someone. At least the man had taken into consideration that Arthur was gay. Otherwise, family dinner would have been violent that night.

"Hmm... He's always doing something," Arthur remarked. If it were anyone else, Arthur would have thought twice about snarking towards his father. Considering that he had known Marceau for so long, there was no concern. "Was there a particular reason you wanted to talk to me?"

Marceau's smile grew and Arthur suddenly regretted his question. He had apparently opened up a chance for... something. "There is actually. Something very important."

"Oh? And what could that be?" Arthur asked, resting his head on the back of his hand.

Marceau smirked briefly before dropping down to one knee. Arthur amazed himself that he was able to keep a straight face when Marceau took his free hand. "Arthur Lorne Reilly, as you know His Highness the King, you father, made the announcement that you are available for marriage. In light of this startling announcement, I would like to humbly ask for your hand. Will you marry me?"

If Arthur wasn't raised to never show emotion, his face would have been bright red and he would have been a stammering mess. Instead of showing his internal reaction, though, he tilted his head at Marceau in (fake) consideration while the room went eerily silent.

Of course he had thought about it before. He knew Marceau would do this as soon as his father made the announcement (without his consent). He was lucky that Marceau was the first to ask. It saved him from the misery of turning down noble upon parasitic noble. There would surely be uproar over him accepting the proposal of a foreign diplomat, but... Arthur was nothing if not controversial and a pain in the ass for his father.

"It would save my family a lot of headaches if I told you no," he started with. He got a little bit of enjoyment when Marceau's smile twitched. "But I think it's known I don't really care about all that. So yes. I will."

Whispers immediately started in the brief moment that Marceau took to process Arthur's answer. Arthur cursed in surprise when Marceau yanked him out of his chair and into an embrace. There was as much cheering as would be considered acceptable by his father, but that little amount made Arthur anxious either way.

The idea that he was going to marry Marceau made Arthur's head spin. Granted, Marceau was the only one he could marry, since they had been carrying on with a secretive on-off relationship for a couple years, but still. It caught up to Arthur in the blink of an eye. The idea of marriage suddenly scared him immensely. Enough that it panicked him and he passed out. In the middle of court.

 **My tumblr is faerie-of-the-moonlight if you want to follow me there or just look at the original post.**

 **~ I take oneshot requests for FrUK ~**


	22. Halloween Night

**Based on a picture sent to me by espisayer on tumblr**

Once upon a time, Arthur had loved Halloween. Of course, that was when he was a kid and his biggest worry was not getting in trouble with his parents. As an adult, he had nothing _but_ worries and problems. And Halloween was something bittersweet.

He didn't know why he had agreed to go to Gilbert's Halloween party. Marceau was sure to badger him into it no matter what, but he could've put up a bigger fight. He should have, in fact, protested more.

It wasn't the dressing up he minded, though the mini-top hat's clip did scratch his head. It was the crowd (because God-forbid if Gilbert invited a sane amount of people instead of the entire university campus) and simply Halloween by itself.

Marceau knew damn well why. Halloween affected vampires strangely; some grew hyper and dangerous while others became lethargic and moody. Arthur was the latter ever since he hit 13 and he had to start taking supplements. People liked to say the difference was whether or not the vampire in question functioned from medicine or real blood, but... The past few years of a steady relationship had done nothing to change it. (Though it was probably for the best.)

While all the other guests were mingling and drinking in the courtyard (Gilbert's family was loaded, who knew?), Arthur was standing off to the side by the short stone wall. He simply wasn't in the mood to party and drink. He had only come for Marceau's sake, but it hadn't taken more than half an hour for them to get separated.

Despite what people might've thought, Arthur wasn't bitter or jealous about it. He saw people giving him looks; most pitying and some smug. He just ignored it, though. Eventually, Marceau would wander over and ask what was wrong.

It was probably an hour after they got there that Marceau came over. Arthur was... admittedly a tiny bit glad to see he looked apologetic and frustrated. "I'm sorry," he sighed. "Gilbert would not shut his mouth."

"It's fine," Arthur shrugged while watching Marceau sit on the wall. "I'm sure that I'm not all that much fun right now anyway."

Marceau sighed at him. "Oh, of course. I'm just dying to go back and listen to Gilbert's stories again. You know, the ones I've heard already a thousand times. There's no reason at all I would want to spend time with my boyfriend."

"We live together. You ought to be sick of me." Though, Marceau had grown up with Gilbert so that was about... 10 years compared to 2. "Either way, you know I'm not in the best mood tonight."

"I've survived three Halloweens before this. I think I can make it through this one," Marceau smiled. "Now come here." He tugged at Arthur's arm in order to pull him close.

When they first started going out, Arthur was an awkward mess and didn't like... any contact. It was insanely difficult, but it became easier when Marceau found out what he was. (Which was an innocent accident when Arthur was drunk one night.) Two years later and Arthur barely blinked when Marceau pulled him down to sit almost in his lap.

He sighed and held his cheek while Marceau wrapped an arm around his waist. "Feeling handsy?" he asked.

"Mhh, maybe. Or maybe I just want you to be in a better mood," Marceau told him. It didn't surprise Arthur; Marceau would normally try to bring him out of bad moods. It just... wasn't always the most successful.

"Ah, I see. Well, you're gonna have to get me pretty drunk, then," Arthur sighed. Even then, he would probably just pass out after a few shots.

Marceau snorted. "Let's not do that. We can always go home early," he said, pressing a kiss to the side of Arthur's head. When Arthur tilted his head away, he only leaned in more and took ahold of Arthur's right hand.

"Won't Gilbert start bitching?" Arthur asked with a raised eyebrow. "I'm not sure I want him pounding on our door in the morning."

"He'll get over it. I'll just say you were feeling sick," Marceau suggested. It wasn't far from the truth.

After a moment, Arthur leaned back with a sigh. "If you say so..." He was tempted to go to sleep then. Too bad for the massive crowd in front of them.

The moment of peace was broken by the flash of a camera and Gilbert's voice, "Aw, look at the lovebirds!" Neither of them had a chance to react to Gilbert, though, because the flash startled them both into falling backwards off the wall.

Despite feeling lethargic and drained, Arthur's cursing could be heard well over the music and Gilbert's laughter. It wouldn't be the most notable thing that happened at the party, but it was enough to drag Arthur out of his exhaustion. If only for the ten minutes he spent being angry at Gilbert.

 **My tumblr is faerie-of-the-moonlight if you want to follow me there or just look at the original post.**

 **~ I take oneshot requests for FrUK ~**


	23. Fae Wedding Day

**A request was made by Madison Camelia to continue off from chapter 21, so here we are! The wedding! It is, admittedly, not what I originally had in mind when this was requested. Uhm, it kind of.. took a turn. Not a bad turn. Nothing bad happens. But... Arthur is forever a grump. So... he took over and that's that. I hope you like it!**

Arthur sighed heavily as people fussed around him. They were trying to make him look as nice and royal as possible. It took all of his self control not to shove them out of his face.

Everyone was scrambling to get ready for the wedding and it was pure chaos no matter how you looked at it. He didn't know what else to expect, though. He obviously hadn't been alive for his father's wedding. In comparison, it wasn't like Arthur was going to take the throne. The king needed to have children and it was clear that Arthur wasn't going to.

Rather than panicking like he was expected to after fainting at the proposal, Arthur was bored. Weddings were boring―even his own. It wasn't the ceremony that had freaked him out and made him faint. It was what came _after_ the ceremony. Being married and everything that came with it. His only salvation was that he was getting married to Marceau.

The wedding ceremony was exceedingly boring. Arthur was never a fan of big events as it was, but that was miserable for him. What he really didn't understand was that it was… generic. There had been so much fussing and chaos for the last few months for a simple, common, and generic wedding. The only thing that was different than any other wedding he'd been to was how he and Marceau were addressed and the guest list. Otherwise, it was the exact same bullshit.

There was really nothing special about it. It was a ceremony to celebrate a piece of paper and a pair of rings. It was long and arduous and gaudy. (The decorations hurt his eyes when he first looked around.) After a horrible three hour ceremony, they then had to suffer through an eight hour reception. It was eight hours of people trying to suck up and kiss ass. Arthur was used to it, but he could tell it was wearing on Marceau. Well, Arthur thought, he knew what he was getting into when he proposed. Marceau would have to develop the patience for those sort of things.

They were finally given time to themselves when the clock hit 11:00. Of course, everyone expected them to "consummate" the marriage, but… it was a little late for that. Besides, Arthur couldn't care less about modern customs. It was all for show. If they had followed old traditions, it would have meant more than no longer having to sneak around.

He had only thought of that as he sat in bed, waiting for Marceau to finish bathing. When Marceau came out, Arthur's first words were, "We should get married. Again. The old way."

"Erm… come again?" he asked, tilting his head.

"No, it's perfect. There's already a full moon and I can do it myself."

"Arthur, wait," Marceau interrupted with a chuckle. He shook his head and sat down on the edge of the bed. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm not Fae or from here. Explain what you mean."

Arthur sighed. It wasn't that he had forgotten. He had just assumed that Marceau had read or heard about it before. "For my people, marriage used to be performed with magic. A ritual. It meant a lot more than a piece of paper and title."

Marceau blinked and rested one foot on the other knee. "Okay… So obviously it has to do with magic. What do you want to do, then?"

An hour and a half later and they were standing in a clearing near the castle. Arthur had given a little bit of an explanation on the way. It was an old custom. Couples were married under a full moon and the connection was more than a piece of paper could have ever created. The effect would be diminished, since Marceau wasn't Fae, but they would still be able to sense the other's emotions and health. There would be physical marks, as well, over their hearts. Arthur wasn't sure what the marks would be, but he knew they would form.

He didn't go into the process, though. Mostly because he was focused on where they were going and what he would have to do. It was sudden and out of nowhere, but… it felt right. He had adjusted to the idea of being married, so why not go all out? (There was also the fact that the full moon made him go a little batty.)

They sat down in the center of the clearing. Marceau was being patient as Arthur got his thoughts in order. Once Arthur settled down, the "ritual" started along. Of course, it wasn't the simple magic that Arthur played around with when he was bored. It was, in a way, blood magic. The name and implication was sinister, but it was all in the matter of who was performing the spell and what the purpose was.

Arthur cut Marceau's palm and Marceau cut Arthur's. He could tell Marceau hesitated, but it was a simple wound. Easy to heal with magic afterwards. While holding hands, a strange feeling ran through both of them. A heavy, tingling, buzzed feeling. Something akin to being drunk on a stimulant. It was pleasant until it started to burn.

It was all through his body. Like the worst fever imaginable. His vision started to get cloudy and his ears were ringing. It was a challenge to keep his focus on the magic. His head spun and the second the spell was done, he collapsed into Marceau.

He woke up to the sound of crickets and the feeling of something warm on his chest. Arthur was highly confused as he opened his eyes to find himself laying on Marceau in a clearing. His body was heavy as he pushed himself up into sitting and looked around. It was still dark out, so they couldn't have been out for long.

"Hey… How do you feel?" Marceau asked him. Or maybe Marceau hadn't been knocked out at all. He did look tired, though, as he sat up with Arthur.

"Ah… Alright… A little… dizzy," he admitted. "My chest feels… warm."

"As does mine. I looked while you were napping," Marceau told him. "And I'd wager that feeling is from the 'marks' you mentioned. We seem to have matching roses now."

"Ah, well… That would make sense." Roses were a common theme among the royal bloodline, as far as he knew.

Arthur was taken by surprise when Marceau kissed him. Perhaps he should have expected it, but he was still waking up. His face was lightly flushed and he blinked at Marceau when he pulled back with a grin. "Hmm… I think I like this. You always bottle your emotions… Even if it'll take some getting used to."

It was only after Marceau said that that Arthur realized his emotions were heightened. He wanted to blame it on the magic, but knew he couldn't. "I, erm…. I guess… I'll have to get used to it, too…"

"Do you think it's a bad thing?" Marceau asked, tilting his head.

"N-no, of course not…" Arthur frowned a little and fidgeted. "I wouldn't have… brought this up if I did…" It was just strange and went entirely against how he was raised.

"Well, then I'm glad. Since we're both exhausted, though, what do you say we just… make a night of it and go back in the morning? It's perfect weather, for once."

There would be questions if they weren't back by breakfast, but… The castle was the last place Arthur wanted to return to. "Sure… Why not? Just don't expect to get my clothes off." Following Marceau's laugh, Arthur couldn't help but smile. He may have humiliated himself at the proposal and been bored out of his mind at the wedding, but… Marriage would be amazing if he would be married to Marceau.

 **My tumblr is faerie-of-the-moonlight if you want to follow me there or just look at the original post.**

 **~ I take oneshot requests for FrUK ~**


	24. Happy Accidents

**Request made by madison camelia: "Can I have a request that England turns France into a cat just to cuddle with him, please."**

 **So I will admit to putting this off because I didn't know what the hell to do with it. I struggled on how to make it make sense and not be weird. So, to make it VERY clear, this is NOT a ship story. I did my damnedest to make it purely "platonic" and not weird. It's going to be short fluff with absolutely no point to it. In short, Arthur's mother is a witch and she had a familiar, Marceau. Arthur has magic too, but he's too young to control it. Accidents happen and innocent bystanders are the victim.**

 **Two more things before I stop rambling. This is probably where I'm going to draw the line for what I will consider "crack." I have a hard time writing silly, pointless stories. I don't want to be a jerk, but it's just hard for me and I don't feel like I create as good of a story.**

 **And finally... there will be end notes regarding how I'm going to be handling cross-posting after the story. Very important as far as requests go, so you probably want to take a look.**

 **I'm done. I'm sorry if this story sucks and was not what was expected. T.T**

No four-year-old should be expected to be able to properly control their magic. Then again, most four-year-olds hadn't even come into their magic yet. There was no hope of the child being able to control his abilities, so his mother had to keep him out of school and away from the public. They were far from the the days of the Salem Witch Trials, but that didn't mean there was no risk.

There were many moments that she was grateful Arthur hadn't been enrolled into school. The boy had so many magical accidents that it was ridiculous. He was certainly going to be a prodigy as he got older. Until then, he was a terror for his mother, siblings, and any of the unfortunate familiars.

The familiars came and went as contracts expired, but they all quickly became aware of the magical disaster that was Arthur. That said, none of them were quite as familiar as Marceau. The unfortunate ghost-turned-familiar seemed to be the one who fell victim to Arthur's "happy accidents" the most. There was no reasoning for it, as the child didn't seem to know he existed otherwise.

One such accident was the time when the boy unintentionally turned him into a house cat. The only one happy in that particular scenario was Arthur. His brothers thought it was hilarious, but quickly vacated the house once their mother glared at them. There was no reason he should have been able to do that by any standard. She didn't even know it was possible.

And the poor familiar was _not_ happy. Even if Arthur was harmless and sweet, there was something frustrating and concerning about a child that young having so much ability. Even if the only thing that happened was the child sat on the couch with the new "cat" and begged his mother to keep said cat.

Which was hardly possible. The contract with familiars only lasted so long and the end result wouldn't be pretty if Marceau spent the rest of the time as a cat. It was adorable, yes, but… not practical. So Arthur was allowed to have his fun while his mother dug through her books for a solution.

All in all, it took her most of the day to figure out how to undo the spell. It was a day that wasn't going to be quickly forgotten by Marceau. As intriguing as the child was, it was not worth his frustration and patience to deal with such a volatile magic.

 **Okay, so about cross-posting... It's actually really frustrating for me to post a story or chapter on three different sites at once (FanFiction, AO3, and Tumblr). So I have a new rule. I'm going to keep requests on the site they are made on unless I really like the story or the request was made on tumblr. So, basically, FanFiction requests will stay on FanFiction and AO3 requests will stay on AO3. This just simplifies things for me and saves me a headache. Otherwise, nothing else has changed about requests. The rules are still the same as in my profile.**

 **My tumblr is faerie-of-the-moonlight if you want to follow me there or just look at the original post.**

 **~ I take oneshot requests for FrUK ~**


	25. Who are you calling a damsel!

**A request by Espisayer based on a batch-prompt post I made on tumblr. For some clarity beforehand, Marceau (France) is part of a mafia family and failed to tell Arthur, his boyfriend, about that "little" detail.**

Of all the situations Arthur could have imagined himself in, Arthur never could have seen himself being tied up in a warehouse for some kind of interrogation. He knew exactly how he ended up there, though, and who was to blame. And he was pissed off. For a few reasons.

His back hurt, his legs were numb, his shoulders ached, and his face… His face was somewhere between hurting and excruciating. That was to be expected after getting punched several times. His eye was already swollen and his nose was surely broken. Someone was going to die for it.

He sighed on hearing footsteps. How amazing it would be for someone to pay him a visit again. He almost got out of the rope binds around his wrists, so he was frustrated by the interruption.

The door opened and… it wasn't who he was expecting. At all. That didn't make it any more welcome, though. "Ah, Arthur… You look terrible," his visitor remarked with a frown.

"Well, gee, Marceau… I wonder why?" Arthur said in his most sarcastic voice possible. He winced at the nasally sound from his broken nose. "This is your fault, you prick!"

"My fault? How could it possibly be my fault if I'm here to help you?" Marceau asked, walking over and around Arthur. There was definitely a risk in untying him, but he couldn't just leave him like that.

"Because you got me involved in your fucking mess!" Arthur growled. "You should have warned me about this shite!"

"Alright, alright, I admit… I didn't consider this could happen…" Marceau sighed, pulling all the rope off of Arthur. Then he smirked a little bit. "But at least I came to get you. Never figured you for a damsel in distress."

Arthur scowled and stood up from the chair, grabbing Marceau's shirt collar. "Who the fuck are you calling a damsel? I was two minutes away from getting myself out of this."

"Oh, were you really? How were you planning on getting past the guards?" Marceau asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, how the fuck did you get past the guards?"

Sighing, Marceau took Arthur's hand off of him. "They're dead. Now will you please cooperate so I can take you home and patch you up?" He really needed to go to a hospital, but they couldn't do that. There would be too many questions to lie to.

Arthur snarled, but… he was feeling lightheaded. Even if he tried, he knew he would actually be able to put up much of a fight. "Fine. But you're going to answer every goddamn question I ask."

Marceau smiled and started leading Arthur out by his arm. "Of course. I assume I'm sleeping on the couch, as well."

"If you're lucky."

So the floor, possibly, then. That was probably the price to pay for keeping secrets. Just meant he had to work that much harder, then.

 **My tumblr is faerie-of-the-moonlight if you want to follow me there or just look at the original post.**

 **~ I take oneshot requests for FrUK ~**


	26. Why? I did it for the greater good!

**A request by witch21 based on a batch-prompt-post I made on tumblr.**

There was really no good way to stumble onto that sort of scene. There was even less of a good reason for that sort of scene to exist in the first place. Aleksandr couldn't _think_ of a good reason, anyway. He was sure Gilbert thought he had one.

"Gilbert… Why…? Just… Why?" he sighed, running a hand over his face.

Standing in the middle of the room, Gilbert just chuckled a little bit and grinned. "Don't give me that! I did it for the greater good!"

"The greater good of what?" Aleksandr couldn't see what "greater good" there was. It was a fucking disaster however it was turned.

Gilbert chuckled again. "Uhm… The greater good of making you happy?" he tried, going in for a hug. Aleksandr side-stepped him, though.

"Uh, no. You are a fucking mess. You're not touching me like that. And there is no way this… mess would make me happy," he sighed, giving Gilbert a weary look.

"Aw, c'mon," Gilbert laughed. "Not even a little bit?"

"Not a bit."

Well… Not too shocking considering. He knew there was going to be a mixed reaction. He had a small hope that maybe not, though. "Oh, well… Do you at least forgive me then?" Gilbert asked with a grin. He knew what it meant if Aleksandr was mad at him. He was not looking forward to it.

Aleksandr sighed and looked over the room with a raised eyebrow. "Only if you clean it up. And I'm talking spotless. Enough that your brother would never be able to tell what happened."

Gilbert groaned and ran a hand through his hair. "Agh, goddammit. That's going to take a fucking century."

"Better get started now then," Aleksandr remarked with a smile. "Think about this the next time you decide to wreak my kitchen."

"I better get at least a kiss after this!" Gilbert remarked as he spun around on his heel to find the cleaning supplies.

"That should be my line," Aleksandr sighed as he started to walk away. He couldn't help a smile. He knew Gilbert was just trying to be nice. He had to give him a little bit of shit, though, or it would become a regular thing. And he liked his kitchen intact. So maybe he wouldn't be sleeping on the couch after all.

 **My tumblr is faerie-of-the-moonlight if you want to follow me there or just look at the original post.**

 **~ I take oneshot requests ~**


	27. Autumn Afternoon

**Inspired by a post by otpimagines1 on tumblr.**

It was probably unusual for people to just lie around in a park. But Atanase was far from normal. There had never been any doubt about that. He was strange, but smart. Just not always in common sense matters.

Which was showcased by him lying in the middle of a park during autumn. He completely blocked out anyone around him and was just glad to get away from home and enjoy himself. For once.

He didn't expect for someone to trip over him. He wasn't exactly well hidden, though he was away from the path. So he couldn't wrap his head around how the girl caught her foot on his side and faceplanted into the grass.

"Oh, Lord, are you okay?" Atanase laughed after getting over the pain of being kicked in the stomach. She was wearing some especially painful boots.

The girl swore in a foreign language as she snapped her head up, long hair flying about her face. "Why the hell are you lying on the ground, you fuck?" she hissed at him.

After getting a good look at her face, Atanase smirked a little bit. "Well, miss, considering I'm plainly visible to passerby… I say it would have to be fate."

Her scowl only worsened at his remark. Not the desired effect, but it didn't put him off. "Go rot in hell," she growled as she stood up.

He laughed a bit and stood up with her, catching her wrist. "Now, wait, please. I think it's awfully rude to storm off after kicking me in the ribs."

She snarled and yanked her wrist back. "Don't touch me," the girl growled as she pulled a knife from… somewhere and held it to his neck.

Just that smooth motion triggered some gears to start turning in his head. She had looked familiar before, but her abrasive and violent nature set off a few more bells. "Ah, now, now. Ms. Natalia Kolosov, you wouldn't want to make any rash decisions," he smirked.

"How do you know who I am?" Natalia demanded, pressing the knife against his neck further. A small cut was made and blood was drawn.

"Your demeanor. Plus, I have to know everything that goes on in this city," he explained.

She scoffed and asked, "And why is that?"

"Because you're talking to Atanase Vasilescu." He smirked as she stalled and started to carefully step away. "That's right, miss mafia. You just happened to pull a knife on the prince of Romania. It's nice to meet you," he said, bowing down to kiss the too of her hand.

A relaxed and boring day away from the castle turned fascinating in a mere moment. And he couldn't be happier.

 **My tumblr is faerie-of-the-moonlight if you want to follow me there or just look at the original post.**

 **~ I take oneshot requests ~**


	28. A Midnight Visit

**Espisayer on tumblr wanted some Romania/Belarus humor so here we go! For some reference, Romania is about 17 here and Belarus is 16.**

Most people, when invited into their girlfriend's room at midnight, don't expect it to be to help with homework. Then again, Atanase and Natalia were not most people. They were both exceptionally odd in their own regards and it was no better when they were together.

By all rights and expectations, they shouldn't have even been together in the first place. Atanase was the school flirt―though rumors were often exaggerated due to his openness with being bisexual―and Natalia hated everyone in the school. (Except her brother and sister, but that was a given.) Five months and one summer later and they still got weird looks in the halls.

Still, though, it was a peculiar situation. Even if his reputation was an exaggeration, Atanase had to wonder why Natalia was screwing around and teasing him. Proofreading her short story for creative writing could have waited until lunch the next day. She knew exactly what she was doing―he wouldn't dare try something with her brother in the house. They didn't exactly get along the best since Atanase started dating Natalia…

The last thing he wanted was to tip Aleksandr off that he was there, but it was so hard not to laugh at the look on Natalia's face. "What is this?" she demanded, glaring at the red marks on her papers.

"You wanted an honest opinion," Atanase chuckled and shrugged. "Besides, it's not really that much and better me than your teacher."

"Tch. Not for you." It wasn't the first time, though, that he had pointed out some… "errors" in her writing. Mainly that she doesn't allow emotion to come into play and it comes off quite dry. Which was normally fine, but the assignment was to recreate a fairy tale into a modern setting. And fairy tales―the popular versions, at least―have happy endings. Cinderella "accidentally" pushing the step sisters off a bridge was happy for some, but probably not Natalia's teacher.

"Oh, please. Like we're going to do anything up here anyway," Atanase snorted. He had nothing to lose. They've barely kissed; nothing else was happening for a long time. And, again, despite his reputation, he was fine with that. They were moving at the pace Natalia was comfortable with.

After a moment of her ignoring him and flipping through the pages, Natalia sighed through her nose and flipped her laptop back up. She had a lot of rewriting to do and it would likely take her two or three more attempts before Atanase deemed it passable. The only reason she respected his opinion on the matter was because he took the class before her. Otherwise, she would tell him to shove his red notes up his ass.

Everything was going fine until there was a knock on the door. They didn't even have to look at each other before they reacted; Natalia went to open the door and Atanase ducked into the closet. It wasn't the first time and probably wouldn't be the last, but that didn't make it any easier to deal with.

"What?" Natalia asked as she opened the door, raising an eyebrow up at Aleksandr.

"You need to go to bed," he said, as the time had now gone to one in the morning. "Why was the door locked?"

"I was writing. I didn't want Anya coming in and distracting me," Natalia shrugged, lying easily.

"Uh-huh… Then can I see what you've done so far?" Aleksandr asked, stepping into her room. She always let him look at her writing whenever, so there should be no problem.

"Sure." It wasn't what she wanted to say, but it was the only answer she could give. It already seemed like he was suspicious. She stalled for a moment in finding the papers to make sure Atanase was out of sight before handing them to Aleksandr.

He'd only been looking them over for a moment before recognizing the red handwriting. "You had Atanase proof it for you?" he asked.

"Yeah, earlier today."

"Hmm… It's good," he said with a smile as he handed the papers back. "Just make sure you don't stay up for much longer, okay?"

Natalia nodded as she watched him turn around to walk out. When he threw the closet door open instead, she knew they'd been fucked from the beginning. It wasn't really shocking necessarily, but she had at least hoped they might've had a chance. Evidently not.

"Time for you to go home," Aleksandr stated with a smile as he dragged a shocked Atanase out of the closet by his shirt collar.

"Ah, I guess it is," Atanase said with a nervous laugh as he was hauled out of the room. It was a struggle to walk; Aleksandr was a lot taller than him and was marching with a purpose. Probably to throw him out the front door and over the stairs.

It wasn't really how he planned to spend his Wednesday night. It wouldn't have been so bad if Aleksandr actually had a reason to throw him out. "I was just helping, I swear," he laughed, wincing as he hit his knee on a corner.

"You know, I don't really care. I made the ground rules very clear to you. This is the only warning you're getting," Aleksandr said, yanking the front door open. "Make another misstep and I'll toss you out the window next time."

Stumbling down the few stairs but not falling, Atanase smiled and nodded. Aleksandr was intimidating, yes, but he wouldn't actually hurt someone… severely. Atanase had known him well enough beforehand to feel safe in that knowledge. "Of course. Have a good night," he said before turning to go.

 **My tumblr is faerie-of-the-moonlight if you want to follow me there or just look at the original post.**

 **~ I take oneshot requests ~**


	29. Reunited Love

**Fruk-de-lys on tumblr asked for some FrUK, so here we go. Be prepared for some sadness with a happy ending!**

There was nothing that could really surprise Marceau anymore. He was at a point in his life where he took everything as it was. He'd been through enough shock and tragedy to be able to take most things in stride.

He lost his boyfriend at 17 to leukemia. It had been something he knew would happen shortly after meeting Arthur, but he thought he could prepare himself. He didn't plan on falling head over heels in love and willing to do anything to prevent the inevitable. It was a living nightmare and he was never really sure how he came out of it as a functioning adult.

What he never expected was to walk by Arthur in the street three years later. It didn't register with him at first and he had to do a double take. When he had turned around, Arthur wasn't there. But he had seen him. He knew it. He just couldn't explain it.

It drove him insane for so long. Eventually he was able to pass it off as mistaken identity. Until one of his best friends told him otherwise. He had never taken Gilbert for the type to believe in angels. Ramiro, yes; his family was religious as possible. But Gilbert laughed at the idea and brushed everything off.

But after hearing the full story, about how he had been in a similar situation with a friend years ago, Marceau was able to… accept it. Something else that shocked him. But he was willing to accept anything if it meant he could see Arthur again.

A year later and four years after Arthur died, he got his wish. It was hard not to break down or freak out, but―after knowing everything―the only thing he could do was grin like an idiot. Arthur didn't seem to realize Marceau could see him.

He was just sitting up on the high wall and kicking his feet. It was mesmerizing to see him up there. Arthur looked a little older than he was when he died and, in the ultimate irony, he looked so much healthier. The wings were definitely an odd thing to see, but he was there. Arthur was just sitting there, unaware of Marceau staring up at him.

"Arthur!" Marceau called up at him. There was so much he wanted to say, but he was also at a loss for words.

Immediately, Arthur's head snapped down to him, eyes wide in surprise. He didn't seem to know what to say either. There was a long time where they sat there and stared at each other before Arthur pushed off the wall and fell down to him. It startled Marceau at first―the wall was at least ten feet―but then he remembered that he had wings. He didn't fly down, but gravity seemed to have much less of an effect on him.

Arthur gasped as Marceau actually moved to catch him and pull him into a tight hug. "I can't believe you're here… Oh my God, Arthur… You have no idea how much I've missed you," he mumbled into Arthur's shoulder.

With the initial shock gone, Arthur laughed a little bit and ran his hands through Marceau's hair. "I think I have some idea… I've missed you too… But I'm glad you've been okay after everything…"

"As much as I could… It's been so hard without you…" Part of him couldn't accept it. Arthur had died; there was no way Marceau could be holding him. "How long… do I get to have you…?" he asked, voice cracking.

Laughing a little bit, Arthur pulled back to kiss him. "Forever…? Do you know why you can see me…? I'm a guardian angel. Yours."

It took Marceau a moment to process that. He would never have to say goodbye to Arthur? After four years without him? It was enough to trigger his emotions all over again. "Arthur… Can I never let you go…?"

"Mh, sounds good to me… I'm sorry…" Arthur said, leaning on him. "I didn't…"

"Don't… Don't apologize for anything. Just… don't leave me again. Okay?" Marceau said with a smile.

"Ah… Of course… Never again." Nothing could ever make him.

After just standing there and embracing, Marceau started to pull away to look Arthur over. He looked good; healthy, fit, happy… Everything that he wasn't those last few months. "So… I'm curious… Do I look like a weirdo talking to myself?" Marceau asked with a lopsided smile in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Arthur chuckled a little bit and shook his head. "No, no… They can see me. Just without the wings."

At least he wouldn't look like a nutjob. More than anything, he was glad that he could hold Arthur and talk to him again. It was the simplest things that he missed the most. Just hearing his accent. "So they see the fluffy hair, leather jacket, and ripped jeans…?" he asked with a smirk as he kissed Arthur's nose and snuck his hands into Arthur's back pockets.

Arthur flushed and avoided eye contact briefly before tilting his head. "Ah, w-well… Yes? Wh-why are you focusing on my appearance so much…?"

"Because the last time I saw you, you were laid up in a hospital bed and dying… Just looking at you makes me ridiculously happy," Marceau told him.

"Hmm… I think I understand… How about, uhm… we go to your flat and actually… catch up…? I've… missed a few years…"

"Yeah… Let's go… We have a lot of missed time to fix…" Marceau said, taking Arthur's hand. He made sure to kiss him again before he started to lead Arthur to his place. He wanted to spend as much time as possible with Arthur. It would be hard to figure out how to balance time with Arthur with everything else, but it was possible. He wouldn't allow anything to change his priorities now. Arthur came before anything else.

 **My tumblr is faerie-of-the-moonlight if you want to follow me there or just look at the original post.**

 **~ I take oneshot requests ~**


	30. Happy Birthday?

**Based in part on a picture sent to me by espisayer on tumblr**

It wasn't really a surprise to find Arthur sitting behind the hedges eating cake. His mother would have a fit about staining his pants if she saw him. Marceau just smiled and sat down behind him.

"What a surprise to find you hiding out at your own birthday party," he quipped, leaning his back against Arthur's. "What will your parents say?"

"Like they'll even notice I'm gone," he snorted, glancing over his shoulder at Marceau. "It's all about schmoozing and kissing arse for them. Did you hear they're trying to marry me off to your sister?"

"You have to be joking. They still don't accept that you're gay?" Marceau asked with a sigh.

"Of course not. They're far too set in their ways to accept me being anything less than the ideal heir," Arthur said, rolling his eyes. It was a terrible thing to say, but it was true. His family only cared about appearances. They would never accept their only child being gay. "They could at least be pressuring me to marry you."

Marceau laughed and leaned back on Arthur. "That would be something. Too bad they hate me."

"That just makes it better," Arthur grinned.

Marceau snickered and rested his head on the back of Arthur's. "If only they knew. They'd have a heart attack."

"Oh, let's go tell them, then. Right away. Anything to make this stupid party end sooner." He didn't want to be there, but it wasn't like he could actually leave. He had maybe an hour with Marceau before his mother or stepfather dragged him away.

It was a nice thought, but he knew that wasn't really an option. They would disown Arthur immediately and kick him out on the street. "Mh, maybe sometime in the future. I'd hate for them to kick you out on the street before you've even graduated university."

"That was a bad enough fight on its own..." They threw a fit when he went for history, archaeology, and folklore instead of law like they wanted him to. As if he wasn't busting his ass every day just the same.

"Look at you two. Hiding out here away from all the excitement," a new voice chimed in, peeking around the corner.

"Lara? You're actually here?" Arthur remarked, raising an eyebrow. Though she must have snuck around everyone else, judging by her jeans.

"Aren't you about to go on a trip?" Marceau asked, leaning back to peak over Arthur's shoulder.

Lara smiled and sat down with them. "I figured I could at least come see the birthday boy," she said, earning a miserable groan from Arthur.

"The only thing good about this birthday is the bloody cake."

"Hopefully not actually bloody," Marceau smiled.

Arthur snorted. "Fortunately not. I don't think my mother made it, the old witch." Finishing off the cake, he set the plate down and asked Lara, "So you found the crew you needed to go to find Yamatai?"

"Sure did. We're actually leaving today, so I can't stay long. I wanted to stop by and wish you good luck while I'm gone."

"Me? I think you're the one that needs it," Arthur snorted. "I just have to avoid drowning in schoolwork. You have to avoid getting caught in a hell pit of storms."

"I'll be fine. Maybe next time, you can come with me," Lara said.

Marceau didn't know how to feel about that. He knew that Arthur was interested in trips like that, but Marceau knew how risky they could get. And it didn't set well with him.

"You know, maybe. Depends on how this year goes," Arthur shrugged. "I guess we can talk about that in a couple months or so, though.

Until then, Arthur would just muddle through his mountain of schoolwork and lean on Marceau for salvation. Otherwise, he had no hope of surviving university or his family. Once he graduated, he would have the freedom to do whatever he wanted.

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